


Hand In Unlovable Hand

by Malifique



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Consent Issues, M/M, Power Imbalance, Praise Kink, TPS-BL2 timeline, Tags May Change, Toxic love, WIP, canon compliant Jack, intergalactic corporate overlord husbands, morally grey Timothy, no redemption only corruption, seduced into villainy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:13:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25591117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malifique/pseuds/Malifique
Summary: Software programmer Jack has big dreams, high hopes, and a daughter he will protect at any cost.Timothy just wants to stop being a loser.One is not the hero he thinks he is, and the other is not the good guy he wants to be. How two halves of a warped whole find and keep each other, even when they really shouldn’t.
Relationships: Handsome Jack/Timothy Lawrence
Comments: 38
Kudos: 42





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an exploration of what motivates someone to hurt the ones they love, and how people do bad things for what seem like all the right reasons. I’m taking some liberties with canon but we’ll hit the key notes, so fair warning. This is not meant to portray a functional, healthy relationship, this is just the flavour of Jackothy I crave <3

Tim disconnected from Bunkers and Badasses Online and rubbed his eyes. The holo display of his clock read 3AM. He had successfully wasted another day.

There was a new notification in his inbox. His heart leapt painfully, then sank like a stone when he opened the message. Just more spam mail, the usual stuff that had been clogging his inbox for weeks (“Feeling frustrated? Go from zero to hero with the Handsome Experience today!”). There was nothing from any of his friends or, more importantly, from Patrick.

He pushed his glasses up onto his flaming red hair so he could rub both hands over his face. He knew he should get some sleep, maybe if he went to bed now there would be a message from Patrick waiting for him when he woke up.

Yeah, and maybe skags would fly.

He stood and stretched with a groan, then shuffled his way to the kitchen in search of food.

The living room was flickering with light from the TV screen. His mom must have fallen asleep in her chair again. He walked around the old sofa and sure enough, she was there, head at an uncomfortable angle, puffy eyelids restless with the motion of REM sleep. He bent down and put a hand on her arm, breathing in her familiar old-laundry-and-cigarettes smell.

“Ma? You gotta get up, can’t sleep here.”

Her slack mouth moved with a groan and she peeled her eyes open. They skated over his face without seeing him and landed on the TV over his shoulder. “Hmm?”

“Let’s get you to bed, Ma.”

She didn’t resist as he helped to lever her out of the chair. Her arm was pale and soft as dough under his hand. “Are you getting ready for class, baby?” she said blurrily.

A hard lump rose in his throat, and he swallowed around it before he answered: “I quit, Ma, remember? I told you last week.”

“Guess that means you’re sticking around for a while,” she said. Her tone was so flat it was hard to tell if she was pleased or not. “I told you Eden U was too expensive.”

“Yeah, yeah it was.” It had been another one of his impulse decisions that had worked out badly. He had grand visions of turning his habitual daydreaming into an actual occupation with the creative writing degree, but two years later he hadn’t produced a single paragraph worth anything even as his debts rolled deeper into the red. That was money he couldn’t afford to lose, and now he was going to be stuck at home again, mooching off his mom. The taste of failure was hard to bear, no matter how familiar. 

When he had settled his mom in her room, he went to make himself some toast and checked his inbox again. Still nothing. He chewed his fingernails and scrolled through the old messages. His uni friends hadn’t checked on him in ages, and at this stage it would be embarrassing to reach out. His outbox was cluttered with awkward messages he had fired off to Patrick: ‘Hey’, ‘What’s up?’, ‘Want to hang out this weekend?’ None of them had been answered.

His chest felt tight as he remembered the last time they had spoken. He knew he shouldn’t have used the L word, people got nervous when he came on too strong, but they had been seeing each other for two months now, and even if Patrick had said he wanted to keep things strictly physical Tim was sure they had forged a connection. Patrick had certainly seemed to like having him on his knees well enough. 

He started typing out another message (‘I miss you’) then deleted it before he could press send. God, he was being pathetic. He needed to pull himself together, get some decent sleep and maybe start looking for a job, otherwise he would be living with his mom until he was thirty. 

He looked around the small apartment with its grubby sink and tightly drawn blinds, the cramped rooms where even the air was sluggish. 

Living on campus had been an extravagance he couldn’t really afford, but it had been so good to get away from this place, this life, this feeling of going-nowhere-fast. He had friends (though he was always on the periphery of each group) and he had lovers (who were happy enough to fool around but baulked at anything more), but in the end it had all been just a nice dream. And now he had crashed back down to earth, with nothing more to show for it than a pile of bills he could feel looming like a migraine. 

All of a sudden he wanted to break something. He had a vision of himself smashing all the dirty dishes, sweeping the piles of takeout boxes onto the floor and dropping a match on it all. He squeezed his eyes shut against the violent impulse. His heart was thumping away like he had just run a race. 

_ Loser,  _ he thought viciously. 

He could feel a scream building up in his throat. In a desperate bid to distract himself he opened his inbox again and clicked on the latest spam message.

The ‘Handsome Experience’ was an invitation to participate in an experimental medical procedure. The whole thing sounded very questionable, both ethically and legally, but the promised payment made his eyes pop. That was more zeros than he had ever seen in his life.

He read the whole message from top to bottom then read it again. This was too good to be true. It was probably a scam to get his kidneys or something, but his eyes kept getting drawn to the numbers next to the dollar sign. The things he could do with that money! He could move out of home, resume his studies, and finally start living his life. 

The ‘Apply Here!’ button stared out at him like a challenge. Tim chewed his fingernails until he drew blood. What was the worst that could happen? If it didn’t work out he could always quit the program, he was good at flunking out. Before he could talk himself out of it, he touched the button and felt a shiver move through him as a pre-recorded voice chirped, “Good choice kiddo!” It felt like something had been set in motion. As he worked his way through the application form he felt the stirrings of hope. That was the one thing he never lacked in. No matter how often he failed, he always hoped the next time would be different. Some might call it a character flaw, but Tim liked to think his optimism was his biggest strength. 

Things would work out this time, he just knew it, because this time he was going to be someone else. 

*

The body double program was not a ploy to steal his kidneys. What it turned out to be was medically supervised torture. 

He turned up to the clinic as instructed, sick with nerves and sucking on his puffer every few minutes while the doctor went down a long, long list of terms and conditions, tossing around phrases like ‘no indemnity’, ‘total forfeit of consent’ and ‘non-negligible chance of death or permanent disability’. His heart was beating so loudly he hardly caught most of it. When they asked him to sign on the dotted line he did, because he was already here, and it would be beyond embarrassing to slink out now. 

He was ushered to the operating room almost immediately. “Right now?” he asked quaveringly. 

“Do you have somewhere better to be?” The surgeon, Dr Autohn, looked at him like he was a bug at the other end of the microscope.

Tim squirmed. “I guess not.”  _ Remember the money.  _ “Um, when do I start getting paid?”

“Soon, Timothy, very soon. Now count backwards from ten for me.”

That was the last clear thing he remembered before he woke up in a medibed. Everything hurt. When he groaned it was in someone else’s voice. 

Dr Autohn was standing at the foot of his bed, reading something on the ECHOtab in his hand. “You’re awake, good, and the voice modulator sounds optimal. Can you say your name for me?”

“Ti--” he stopped at the doctor’s chiding look. Oh yeah, there had been something in the contract about bombs in his face and being turned into human confetti. God, what had he gotten himself into? “Jack. My name’s Jack.”

“Very good,” Dr Autohn said. “Tomorrow we start your training.”

*

The training was the hardest thing he had ever done. He had never been the athletic type, what with his asthma and his two left feet and his mom’s insistence that he didn’t overexert himself. But getting his new body felt like getting a second chance. He threw himself into the training with a vehemence that surprised himself. The pace was relentless: every hour of the day was crammed with lessons on hand-to-hand combat, weapons handling, strength and endurance training and so on. His life was dissected down to the molecules of the food he ate. In some ways it was a relief to hand over the reins so totally, to focus on nothing more than living up to all the potential of his new body.

The first time he saw himself in the mirror Tim almost cried. Jack was clearly one of those beautiful people who moved so easily through the world while others like Tim were left floundering in his wake. Jack had a perfect face and a perfect body and a smile that could blind the unwary with its dazzle. And now Tim did too. That crystalline realisation made everything else that came with the program worthwhile.

He passed test after test as a bevy of white robed medical staff logged down the results on their ECHOs. They pinched and measured and rated him like he was an animal, but a precious one: a champion racehorse or a pedigree hound. For the first time in his life he didn’t mind being scrutinised. He knew he was doing well. 

His favourite part was the weapons training. Every time he aimed down the sights of his gun he could put a bullet through his old self. Bang, there went his nervous stutter; bang, his inability to look people in the eyes; bang, his desperate longing for someone, anyone to want him back. Bullet after bullet turned his old life into confetti, and he relished every kick of recoil against his shoulder. If he could kill the old Timothy, with his freckles and skinny frame and perpetual feeling of not being good enough, then maybe he could become someone worthwhile. Someone like Jack.

He read up on his new employer, eager to glean any information he could on what kind of man he was supposed to be. 

The file they gave him read like a propaganda piece: a self taught tech genius, Jack had built himself up from nothing to become the youngest lead engineer at the notoriously cutthroat Hyperion megacorp. There were pages and pages of effusive detail on Jack’s professional achievements and meteoric rise from obscurity. But beyond the barebones biographical data, there was a telling lack of information on any kind of family life. No childhood anecdotes, no data on partners or offspring or even his parents. Tim knew more about his new employer’s food preferences than whether he had any siblings. It was almost like Jack was trying to erase anything beyond the public persona, though it was hard to imagine what someone so good looking and successful could possibly want to forget. 

Months went past in a blur. Every day he got better, faster, stronger. Every night he dreamed about being an instrument of murder as his body twitched like a dog dreaming of the hunt. The spectre of Jack was always there, like an afterimage glimpsed from the corner of the eyes. Tim wondered if Dr Autohn kept Jack informed of his progress. He wondered if Jack was pleased.

It was almost a shock when the day came that broke up the routine. He turned up to the training range in Jack’s sweater and leather jacket and ridiculously tight jeans, but instead of the usual rotation of anonymous trainers it was Dr Autohn himself waiting for him. For the first time since they had met the other man looked pleased. 

“You’ve made tremendous progress, Jack. But now comes the real test.” He held out an ECHO which Tim took uncertainly. Projected from the screen was a half built space station, pylons jutting from its body like ribs from a decaying whale. “Your employer is very keen to meet you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Motivation is hard these days so updates might be sporadic, but I'll try my best!
> 
> Next up: Tim puts all his training to good use, and Jack has zero regard for normal human boundaries.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim is out of his depth. Jack takes what he wants.

Tim spent his first day on the job getting shot out of the sky and crash landing in a ball of flames. It felt like some kind of metaphor for his life. If he was a better writer he might be able to parse it, but if he was a better writer he wouldn’t be here. As he clawed his way through the burning wreckage, he wondered why he ever thought being a professional loser was not a valid option. That at least had much less chance of him dying a messy death. 

He let out a less than dignified yelp as a hail of bullets hit the piece of debris between him and the welcoming party. He had entertained fantasies of being able to negotiate something with the occupiers, maybe reach a truce that let him walk off the shuttle in one piece; that option had pretty much died as soon as his ride exploded. These guys seemed like the very definition of ‘shoot first, ask questions never’. But Tim was a pacifist at heart (yes, he was aware of the irony) and he felt he had to try.

“Please don’t shoot!” he yelled to be heard over the racket. “I don’t want any trouble, I’m just here to find someone.”

He could hear them hollering at each other, then the shooting stopped. 

_Well, that was easy_ , he thought, just as a grenade sailed overhead to land at his feet with a merry tinkle.

“Shit!” He dove for cover just as the shooting restarted. The bullets passed by close enough to ruffle the hairs on his head, then the concussion blast of the grenade knocked him off his feet. Tim slumped against a concrete barrier and tried to pop his ears. The simulations had never been this loud.

A faint buzzing that he mistook for tinnitus turned out to be an incoming ECHO call. He bit back a whimper and hit the comms. “Hello?” 

“Is that the cavalry?” A voice that could only be his new boss rang out. “What’s taking you so long?”

 _My ride got shot down and I’m trying not to shit myself right now_ was lacking a certain something, so Tim said, “There’s a lot of guys shooting at me, uh, sir.”

“Well shoot ‘em back! If you don’t hurry the hell up and find me you’re gonna have to ask my very attractive corpse for money. Spoiler: I can’t pay you if I’m dead.”

“On--on my way!” Tim ducked as a bullet bounced off the wall next to his head. 

“Atta boy, other Jack. Don’t forget to call on the murder twins to help you out, I’d hate to see all that work we put in you go to waste.”

Oh, right. In the heat of the moment Tim had forgotten all about his secret weapon. He pushed the trigger built into his watch and the two (holograms? projections? he was fuzzy on the details) digital copies of himself burst into existence. 

The digijacks were shitty conversationalists and didn’t have much personality beyond ‘smug’, but he couldn’t fault their efficiency. The shower of blue pixels and hearty shouts of “Jack here!” distracted the enemy long enough for him to make a frantic survey of all his limbs. Miraculously everything was still intact, despite the rough landing and his new trigger happy friends. 

His mission brief had been, well, brief: get onto Helios, find his employer, and do whatever Jack said. It hadn’t explained why the place was under attack, or why Jack hadn’t evacuated with the rest of the employees, but it was abundantly clear that he wasn’t going to get any answers here. 

He checked the rounds in his SMG then squeezed his eyes shut, panting harshly through his mouth. He could see the future stretching out before him like a forked road: one path was very short, and ended with him riddled with bullets without taking another step forward. The other was more complicated. 

He darted a look over his cover long enough to get the lay of the land. There were about half a dozen heavily armed goons between him and where he needed to be. He popped out and let off a burst of gunfire. Two guys toppled. That part at least was like the simulations. The gun was a reassuring weight in his hands, warm like a living thing. 

By the time his digital copies disintegrated, Tim had managed to carve his way through the welcoming party. In the ringing silence that followed he straightened from behind his cover to confirm that, yes, despite all probability, he was the last man standing. 

Wow. Maybe he could do this after all. He took a deep breath, then immediately regretted it. The smell was atrocious, a mix of gunpowder and blood that felt like it was coated on the back of his throat. The simulations hadn’t prepared him for that part, either. Tim gagged as he reloaded, but there was no time to freak out. 

He checked his ECHO for the blip signalling Jack’s last known location then legged it, boots slipping on the puddles of blood. He tried not to look too hard at the corpses he was stepping over. 

It was only when he was halfway to the rendezvous point that it hit him: he had just killed a bunch of people. Like any sane and decent person he understood that murder was inherently wrong. He had spent long nights mulling over the implications of what they were asking him to do. But when the bullets had started flying, the answer was surprisingly straight forward: they had tried to kill him first, so it was self-defence. The Lost Legion were the invaders killing innocent personnel and laying siege to a valuable space station; whatever their reasons, it didn’t justify their actions, and that made them the bad guys. 

As he raced down the echoing corridors, Tim decided that while he didn’t enjoy killing those people, he didn’t feel particularly bad about it either. 

*

Jack was exactly where his ECHO said he would be. Unfortunately so were a group of soldiers, currently kicking three different shades of shit out of the figure in their midst. Tim glimpsed that garish yellow sweater amongst the stomping legs and cursed his luck. Hopefully Jack was still alive in there. 

He made a quick assessment: five heavily armed guys on one civilian, that was just overkill, bad guys really didn't play by the rules. He thinned out the herd with his sniper rifle, drawing them away from Jack, and took the rest down without getting shot or hitting Jack with a stray bullet, which he thought was pretty cool. It was a shame his boss was too busy bleeding out to care.

As the last soldier fell, Tim vaulted over the rails and raced to Jack’s side. His boss was still breathing, though his face looked like it had met the business end of a boot a few too many times. Grimacing, Tim pulled out a couple of Anshins from his pack and jabbed them into Jack’s arm just like how he had been taught.

He took the opportunity to examine his employer. Over the months, he had cobbled together a mental image of Jack based on what information he had and no small amount of projection. Jack was the kind of guy who sacrificed himself for the greater good; after all, he did choose to stay behind while Helios was under siege. Jack would be a little shy, maybe slightly socially awkward, which would explain why he didn’t seem to have any friends or partners. Jack was probably one of those beautiful people who were completely oblivious to their own appeal.

As the Anshins did their work Jack let out a groan, stirring. The swelling on his face went down, revealing those dramatic cheekbones and that patrician nose. Those mismatched eyes flickered open and nailed Tim with an intensity that made his breath catch. Neither the file photos nor his own reflection had prepared him for the real thing. There was a light inside Jack that radiated from him; looking at him was like staring at the sun. 

_This is what a hero looks like_ , he thought in a daze. 

Then Jack ruined it all by opening his mouth. “Well damn, pumpkin, you’re even better looking than I expected.”

Tim gaped at him, trying to decide if he had misheard. “Uh. You know I look exactly like you, right?”

“Duh, that’s the whole point,” Jack said, completely unabashed. “You lucky bastard, you get paid to be the hottest person in any room. Sweet deal, right?”

 _Oh my god he’s a jerk_ , Tim thought despairingly. The mental picture he had carefully cultivated died with a sad little noise in the face of that toothy grin. 

Jack pushed to his feet and ran a hand through his wild hair. His eyes swept over the mess of dead bodies with surprising indifference. “Nice shooting, pumpkin. Good to see Autohn wasn’t bullshitting me with your numbers. This the first time you ever killed anybody?”

Tim felt like he was getting whiplash from the ricocheting conversation. “Y--yes? I try not to make a habit of it?”

“Well get used to it, babe, there’s a whole lot of bad guys between us and where we need to go. I’m not a trained badass like you so I’ll need you to do most of the heavy lifting. Don’t make me regret hiring you.” With that Jack took off, head up and back straight like he hadn’t just taken a beating. When Tim hesitated, his boss whistled for him like he was a naughty dog. Tim scowled at his back and followed. 

As they made their way through the labyrinthine corridors Tim tried to get a handle on the situation. “What were you doing back there anyway?” He had expected Jack to be in hiding, not right out in the open getting his face rearranged.

“I was trying to get Helios’ auto defence systems online, and that can only be done from the main console. I was rebooting the whole thing when those asshats jumped me. Lucky I had you to save my very nice ass, pumpkin.” Jack tipped him a wink over his shoulder, and Tim darted his eyes away from said ass. He couldn’t help looking; the way those jeans clung to Jack’s thighs and glutes should be illegal. He felt his face heat up at Jack’s knowing snicker. 

In a desperate attempt to remain professional he said, “Don’t we need to go back there and finish what you started?”

“Nah, looks like someone’s fucked with the code. I’ll need a little time to unfuck it, and then we can kiss these assholes goodbye and get back to business.” Jack peered around a corner and made a pleased sound. “Coast’s clear, looks like we got lucky--”

Tim saw the glint of light bouncing off a rifle scope and moved before his brain could catch up. He shoved Jack out of the way just as something punched him hard under his ribs. The world whited out for a second; there was a growing wetness on the front of his sweater. With a shaking hand he managed to put a bullet between the eyes of the shooter just as his knees gave out. Jack dragged him behind some cover, but not before he saw more soldiers come boiling out of the structures in front of them. 

“Hey, hey, eyes on me cupcake.” Jack was snapping his fingers in front of his face. Tim blinked and focussed on the pinched brows, the grim set of that expressive mouth. 

“I’ve been shot,” he said in a daze.

“Gold star for observation skills.” Despite the words there was a seriousness to his tone. For the first time since they had met, Jack didn’t look like he was laughing at him. 

"Oh god, am I going to die?"

"No, I'm not gonna let that happen," Jack said with surprising vehemence. "I take care of my people." He pushed the button on Tim’s wristband and the digijacks burst into life.

“Heya handsome.” Both digistructs looked down at them. Pixel eyes took in the spreading stain on Tim’s sweater with all the care a boot might have for a bug it was about to crush. 

Jack jerked his head at them. “You two, get rid of the party crashers. I’ll stay here and cover your boss.”

The digijacks looked over at Tim like they were waiting for confirmation, which would be interesting if Tim’s head didn’t feel about two sizes too big right now. He nodded and they took off like dogs let off the leash. He could hear them tossing catch phrases as they blasted their way through the enemy.

“Huh, they’ve got a pretty limited dialogue tree, don’t they? Must get old fast.” Jack eased him onto his back and gave him a critical once over.

“You have no idea,” Tim said tremulously, then yelped when Jack put his hand down hard against his bleeding side. The flare of pain cleared the growing fog in his head. “Ow, shit, that really hurts!” 

“Stop squirming, I’m trying to slow the bleeding. You got anymore Anshins on you?” 

Tim shook his head. He had used the last one on Jack.

Jack popped up and fired off a couple shots from his dinky wrist laser, his other hand still firmly on Tim’s torso. When he came back down he shot Tim a radiant smile. “That was real smooth, saving my life like that. Talk about a panty dropper move.”

“I’m already regretting it,” Tim groaned. Did Jack flirt so blatantly with everyone? He realised Jack was groping around his hips, and even the pain couldn’t distract Tim from the fact that an intensely attractive person was inches away from his crotch. His head was spinning; he couldn’t tell if it was from blood loss or Jack’s proximity. “Uh, not that I’m not flattered,” he gasped, “but this is kinda a bad time…”

Jack just lifted a sardonic eyebrow. “Sorry handsome, but I was actually after this.” He pulled a grenade out from Tim’s pocket, and Tim found that, blood loss or no, he still had enough of the red stuff to blush with mortification. Right, life or death situation, no time for hanky panky. Not that he wanted that with Jack (who was his boss and also kind of a dick) or anything.

“Cover your ears, pumpkin, this is gonna be loud.” Jack pulled the pin with his teeth, tossed it over their cover and ducked down. The resulting fireball roared over their heads, the sound like a thunderclap in the enclosed space. The glow of destruction lit Jack’s face in dramatic shades. Tim couldn’t drag his eyes away from him if he tried.

As the echoes died away, Jack peeked cautiously over their cover and let out a low whistle. “Wow, that’s messy. Tassiter’s going to shit himself.”

“Please tell me that’s the last of them,” Tim groaned. 

“Oh, there’s always more bad guys. But we’ve bought ourselves a little breathing space.” Jack stood, brushing dirt from himself, and held out his hand. “C’mon cupcake, I’m not paying you to lie around all day.”

“I did just take a bullet for you,” Tim grouched, then gasped when Jack pulled him to his feet. Getting shot looked so much cooler in the movies, and the hero always just walked it off. Tim was pretty sure he was tearing up from the pain and light years away from looking cool. 

“Yeah, that’s kinda the point.” Jack surprised him by sweeping him up in a bridal carry. Tim yelped and clung to his neck, half afraid Jack would drop him, but the other man only threw him a cavalier grin. “That’s twice you’ve saved my ass today, pumpkin. Not bad for your first day on the job. Hold tight and we’ll get you fixed up.”

As they stepped out into the open Tim felt his stomach turnover. The grenade had done an admirable job of reducing their attackers to blobby red chunks and christ, the smell. He turned his face into Jack’s neck and tried to breathe through his mouth. Every step Jack took jostled his wound, but Tim couldn’t find it in himself to complain. He could feel the strength in Jack’s arms, feel Jack’s heart beating steadily against his side. His own heart was racing from a mix of pain and adrenaline. He tried not to think about how long it had been since he had last been so close to another person. 

*

They took a detour via an Insta-Health vending machine. The buzzing high of a couple of red syringes couldn’t dull his irrational disappointment at having to make the rest of the trip on his own two feet.

Jack led him to where he had set up camp while under siege. Tim scoped out the place with barely concealed awe.

Helios was without a doubt a vanity project, a shining monument to Hyperion’s might and wealth. The office was that colossal ambition on a smaller scale. The floor to ceiling windows framed Elpis like a masterpiece, its strange light painted over every reflective surface. Even Tim could admire the view, though he couldn’t stand to look out the windows for long. He was keenly aware that they were suspended in space in a half-done tin can. If he fell from here he would never even hit the ground.

“Is this your office?” he asked. Jack must be even higher up the food chain than he had initially thought.

Jack laughed, sounding delighted. “Oh, you’re not far off, pumpkin. It’s where I belong, yeah, but for the time being there’s a little weasel of a man keeping the seat warm for me.”

There was a cot set up in a corner, covered with a mess of ECHOtabs and blueprints. Jack settled on it with a heartfelt groan, letting his head fall back against the wall. Tim found a chair nearby and perched onto it as he sized up the room. There was nowhere else to sleep in the cavernous office. He wondered if Jack expected him to curl up on the floor like a dog. 

Jack cracked open one eye and looked at him. “You doing okay?”

He rubbed at his arms, shivering. “It’s freezing in here.”

“Yeah, because Tassiter is too much of a tight ass to turn on the heating. ‘We’re under siege, John, you’ll just have to tough it out,’” Jack said in a nasally whine, then in his normal voice, “asshole.”

Tim noted the name with interest. “Why does he call you John?”

“Because he knows how much I hate it. Like I said, asshole.” Jack patted the bed next to him. “C’mere pumpkin, let me get a look at that wound.”

“It’s fine.”

Jack gave him an impatient stare. “Don’t get all shy on me now, sweetheart. You know I already know what you look like naked, right?”

Now there was a mortifying thought. Mouth suddenly dry, Tim walked over and sat down next to his employer, who wasted no time lifting up Tim’s sweater to check the entry wound. 

The Anshins had worked their magic. Where the bullet had left a ragged hole in him was now only a shinier patch of skin. He shivered as Jack stroked one curious finger over it. The air was chilly against his skin everywhere except the place Jack had touched. 

“Healed up good,” Jack said. “You gotta be more careful, babe. I expect you to take very good care of my body.”

 _It’s my body,_ Tim wanted to protest, but that wasn’t really true, was it? He had been remade in Jack’s image, and while the contract had been strangely imprecise on the exact nature of his role (apparently somewhere between bodyguard slash errand boy slash sacrificial lamb), one thing had been perfectly clear: he now belonged wholly and solely to Jack. Was it wrong of him to find the idea strangely appealing? “Yes, sir.”

“As cute as that is, I think we can move pass the formalities. Just call me Jack.” Jack let his sweater drop then took Tim’s chin in a proprietary hand, tilting him into the light. Those mismatched eyes examined him with an intensity that made Tim fight to keep a blush off his borrowed face. Jack was just inspecting the goods, checking that he got his money’s worth. There was no reason he should feel like squirming, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to. 

Tim licked his lips in a nervous tic. Jack’s gaze dropped to follow the motion and lingered for a long moment. Tim had been scrutinised every day of the program by dozens of people, but there was something different about this. By the time Jack let him go, Tim’s heart was doing strange things in his chest.

“You’re all backwards,” Jack said. “It’s weird.”

Tim blinked. “You do know how mirrors work, right?” He was surprised to find his voice steady, even a little sassy. Amazing what wearing a different face could do for your self esteem. 

“Yeah, I know how a mirror works, smartass.” Jack rolled his eyes. “Genius, remember? And not the kind that can split an atom but can’t tie their own shoelaces.” He stretched out his long legs and gave Tim a considering look. “It’s Timothy, right?”

Tim’s heart skipped a beat. “I--I thought I had to go by ‘Jack’ now.”

Jack snorted. “Yeah, to other people you’re ‘Jack’, but I’m paying you so I can call you whatever the hell I want.”

Apparently that included stupid pet names like _pumpkin_ and _cupcake_. _Sweetheart_ was nice though. “What about the whole ‘bomb in the face’ thing?”

Jack actually tipped his head back and laughed. “Oh man, do you have any idea how expensive that shit would be? If I were a supervillain that would be a totally awesome thing to do, but we’re in the hero business baby. I just threw that in there to get your attention. But seriously though, I’m not paying you to be Timothy Lawrence. Drop the act around anyone else and I’ll have to fire your ass.” He fished around under the bed and pulled out a bottle, half full of amber liquid. It uncorked with a hollow pop and he lifted it in a salute. “Here’s to being heroes.”

The smell of alcohol wafting from the open bottle was strong enough to make Tim’s nose wrinkle. “Uh, am I allowed to drink on the job?”

Jack arched an eyebrow. “Who’s paying ya, pumpkin?”

“You, s--I mean, Jack.”

“And I’m saying it’s okay, so go on, stop being an old woman about it.”

Hesitantly, Tim took the bottle and swigged from it. It was like drinking liquid fire; it scorched his mouth and burned all the way down. He coughed raggedly, eyes watering as he tried to catch his breath. Jack laughed and thumped him on the back.

“Easy tiger, that’s a thousand dollar bottle you’re chugging on.”

He shot Jack a horrified look through his tears. The other man only grinned and waved him off. “Don’t worry, it’s not mine. I raided Tassiter’s private reserve. God knows it’s the least we deserve for what we’re risking our necks trying to achieve here.” He took back the bottle and had a deep swig of his own. “Oh yeah, that’s better.”

Slowly Tim realised he was right, it was better. The whiskey was warming him up from the inside out, easing his shivers. When Jack passed him back the bottle Tim took a more careful sip, trying not to think about how he was putting his lips where Jack had his mouth just a moment ago. 

Jack sank back against the wall bonelessly. One of his thighs kept brushing against Tim’s leg, the same way their fingers brushed together every time the bottle exchanged hands. Tim’s head was swimming again. It was probably a bad idea to drink on an empty stomach after a day of running on adrenaline, but Jack had told him to. He wasn’t sure what to make of the casual touching; he could always move away, but that idea was strangely unappealing. Jack really was very good looking.

As if hearing his thoughts, Jack threw him a lazy grin and said, “So kiddo, how do you like being me?”

Tim mulled over the answer. Honestly it had been incredible: people took notice of him now, made way for him and called him sir; attractive people gave him lingering looks; hell, even babies smiled at him. That kind of attention was entirely new and more than a little overwhelming. Tim was never sure where to look, what to say, because underneath his new shiny surface he was still the same awkward, ugly duckling. A lifetime of being overlooked was a hard habit to break. 

It made him hate Jack, just a little, to know that this was how the man lived all the time. 

He could tell by the smirk on Jack’s face that he already knew the answer, but Tim still had some self respect left. He shrugged and said, “It’s all right.”

Jack lifted his brows. “Only all right? C’mon Timmy, I’ve seen your file. Talk about a face for radio.” He lifted a peremptory finger at Tim’s scowl. “But I know better than to judge a book by its cover. A hero’s more than just a chiselled jaw and looking good in a pair of tight jeans.” Jack clapped a warm hand on his shoulder, his thumb rubbing absently over the side of Tim’s neck. Tim swallowed a gasp even as goosebumps rose up on his skin. He thought about shrugging off Jack’s hand, telling him to quit it, but it was only a very fleeting thought. “Do you have any idea how many applicants we got for the job? Out of all those suckers, I chose you. Do you know why?” 

Jack’s stunning eyes were firmly on him. Tim reached up to nudge glasses that weren’t there and nearly poked himself in the eye. It was a habitual nervous tic he hadn’t quite managed to kick, and now it just made him look clumsy. He shook his head. 

“Because,” Jack smiled, his voice an intimate rumble, “you want this more than the rest of them. Ain’t that right, pumpkin? You’ve worked hard for this, and you’re gonna make me proud.”

 _Yes_ , said the part of him that craved to be noticed. It was hard to think with Jack so close by, smelling like expensive whiskey and faint cologne. Tim clung to the fig leaf of his dwindling self respect. “I just want to get paid.”

Jack chuckled. “Sweetheart, by the time this is all over, you’ll be richer than god. People will be telling stories about us to their grandchildren. You just do what I say, and we’ll all have a good time, all right?”

Something hot and huge churned in his gut. Tim swallowed hard and nodded.

“Atta boy. Now let’s get some sleep, got a big day of heroics ahead tomorrow.”

Tim looked around the room, then at the bed they were both perched on. It might be big enough if they squeezed together. “Here?” he said, hating how his voice squeaked on the word.

Jack was already tugging off his boots, and gave him an amused look. “You’re welcome to freeze your nuts off on the floor if you really want.”

With that, he slid under the blanket and rolled to face the wall. Within seconds his breathing evened out. Tim stared at his broad back for a long minute, but it really was freezing in here, and it wasn’t like things could get any weirder on this already weird day. Hesitantly, he shrugged off his jacket and got in the bed. He had to squeeze in a little to keep from hanging over the edge, and despite his best efforts he bumped into Jack. The other man didn’t stir. Tim let himself relax.

He laid there for what felt like hours, hovering at the edge of sleep but unable to slip under. He was drunk and exhausted, but his body was still abuzz with leftover adrenaline. Events of the day tumbled through his head in endless cycles, snapshots flickering like badly edited film: the red splash of blood; the punch of a bullet; the warmth of Jack’s hand. 

He kept fingering the new skin under his ribs. The old Timothy would never have thrown himself in front of a bullet. The old Timothy couldn’t even correct the waiter when they got his order wrong. But he was a hero now, and he had the scar to prove it.

The room wasn’t truly dark, not with Elpis hanging beyond the windows, painting everything in its cold glow. Tim could see his breath misting in the faint light. Beside him, Jack radiated heat like a dwarf star. 

He wanted to look at Jack, to take this opportunity to examine him without being subjected to the same scrutiny, but he couldn’t be sure that Jack was completely asleep. He tried not to disturb the other man, but despite his best efforts he couldn’t keep from fidgeting as sleep remained a distant possibility. When he accidentally jostled Jack again the other man grunted. 

“Settle down, kiddo. You’re twitchier than a virgin on her wedding night.”

“Sorry,” Tim whispered. “Been a weird day.”

He heard Jack let out a creaking yawn and the rustle of him turning over. All the small hairs on his body rose at the phantom weight of Jack’s gaze. “You gotta relax, pumpkin. I can hear you thinking from here.”

“I’m trying, but nothing’s working.”

Jack was quiet for a long moment, nothing but the steady in and out of his breathing disturbing the narrow space between them. Then he said, “Y’know, there’s one thing that’ll definitely work.”

Tim was still parsing the meaning behind the words when he felt a hand on his thigh. His mouth turned dry. Jack couldn’t possibly be implying what Tim thought he was implying. 

He couldn’t bring himself to turn his head and look at Jack, but he was hyper aware of how close the other man was. That hand on his thigh was steady and firm, not moving, just there, impossibly real. Suddenly he had the urge to pull off Jack’s clothes, just to check if they were truly identical. He swallowed it back down with difficulty. “I--I don’t…”

He felt Jack’s huff of laughter against his cheek. “C’mon pumpkin, don’t tell me you haven’t rubbed one out in this sweet new body yet. Because I won’t believe you.”

Heat rushed into Tim’s face almost as quickly as it did between his thighs. Jack wasn’t wrong; he had spent a fair few lonely nights exploring his new body. It had felt strangely illicit, like he was touching something without permission, which didn’t make any sense but added to the thrill. He wondered if Jack would be sensitive in the same places. Embarrassment blazed through him, but it wasn’t enough to keep his idiot dick from giving a hopeful throb. Jack’s hand was very warm through the fabric of his jeans. 

“It’s okay, Timmy, I get it, I can’t keep my hands off me either.” That hand gave his thigh a squeeze, making his breath hitch. “Trust me babe, I know this body, and nothing works better than a quick shot of dopamine to get the Zs going.”

Tim groped for a reason to say no. It was harder than he might have expected. “But you’re my boss.”

“Yeah, and I always look out for my team.” That hand slid slowly, inexorably up until it came to a rest at the top of his thigh. One finger stroked along the tenting fabric, agonizingly close to his straining cock without quite touching. Heat shivered through Tim’s body. He couldn’t stop the groan that came out of his mouth. “Is that a yes?” Jack said, sounding amused. 

There were a hundred good reasons why they shouldn’t do this, but try as he might, none came immediately to mind. It was impossible to think with Jack so close by, watching his every twitch with those incredible eyes. Tim’s head was spinning with a mix of alcohol and hot, aching want. 

He got shot today, and he might die tomorrow. Was it so wrong to want a little pleasure while it was being offered?

“Yeah,” he croaked. “Okay.”

“Atta boy,” Jack purred, and cupped him through his jeans. Tim gasped, hips rising up helplessly into that delicious pressure. Jack’s fingers gave him a knowing squeeze and Tim felt his cock surge into that firm grip. Shit, at this rate he was going to come in his pants like a teenager.

“Please--” he wasn’t sure what he was asking for: more, stop, either option was unsatisfying. He twisted his hands into the sheets in an effort to stop himself from grabbing at Jack.

“I got you babe.” Jack had both hands on him now, working his jeans open with efficiency. “Stop me if any of this doesn’t feel good.”

Tim’s next words tapered off into a moan as he felt fingers on his bare skin. Jack’s hands were warm as they tugged him free of his underwear. They traced over his cock, cradling his balls, working him with an intimate familiarity. Tim whimpered and tried to spread his legs wider against the fabric caught around his thighs. Why the hell did Jack insist on wearing his jeans so tight? 

“There we go, that’s the stuff.” Jack’s voice sounded rough and very close. “God, you have no idea how good you look right now, Timmy.”

Tim squeezed his eyes shut. There was something fucked up here, some strange line being crossed, but there wasn’t enough blood going to his brain to finish the thought. Pleasure was vibrating through his bones. Jack was hot and solid against him, his hands just on the edge of too rough. A thumb rubbed firmly along the underside of his dick and Tim cried out, the sound echoing off the high ceiling.

“Shh, shh, keep it down pumpkin, don’t want us to be interrupted, hmm?” Jack said against his ear. Tim turned towards him blindly, a flower turning to the sun. They were both breathing hard, the air between them hot with urgency. His legs trembled with every motion of Jack’s hands. He was sweating more now than when he was dodging bullets. 

“Hey, I wanna try something, don’t move,” Jack said. He pulled away, and Tim’s disappointed groan turned into an embarrassingly high squeak when he felt hot wet heat around the head of his dick.

His eyes flew open in shock to see Jack taking him into that gorgeous mouth. Jack was sprawled between his thighs, his eyes closed in concentration, those dark lashes resting against his hollowed cheeks. He was just as stunning from this angle as from any other. Tim shoved a hand into his own mouth to muffle his cries. He grabbed at Jack’s hair, fingers sinking into the lush strands, a contrasting sensory shock to the sucking heat of Jack’s mouth. Jack took him all the way down, swallowing, his throat a hot and tight ripple around Tim’s cock. Stars burst to life behind his eyes as Tim came with a jolt. 

Jack pulled away and coughed, wiping a hand over his glistening mouth. “Give a guy a little warning next time, okay? I think some of it went up my nose.”

“Sorry,” Tim gasped. His blood felt like soda fizzing in his veins. Pleasure was still moving through him in tiny electric pulses. 

“All good.” Jack pushed up onto his elbows and gave him a friendly leer. “That was fast. Been a while, huh?”

Tim didn’t think his face could get any hotter. “Shut up.”

“That ain’t any way to say thanks for the best orgasm of your life.” Jack sounded more amused than offended. He elbowed his way up Tim’s body, his groin pressed with intent against Tim’s hip. Tim could feel his heat even through all the layers. “How about a little quid pro quo here, kitten?”

 _I don’t even know you_ , Tim thought, but that was a stupid thing to say when he had already come in Jack’s mouth. The other man made an appreciative noise as Tim undid his jeans with shaking fingers. Jack wasn’t wearing any underwear, and his dick was blood hot in Tim’s hand, velvet skin over hot steel underneath. Tim breathed in his warm scent and wondered dizzily if he smelled half as good as Jack did. 

One coarse hand wrapped around Tim’s and guided him on how to work Jack’s dick better. Jack liked it rougher than he did, squeezing Tim’s hand tight around himself as his hips drove steadily into their combined grip. Jack’s other hand was in his hair, tilting Tim’s head back so he was opened up for Jack’s tongue. 

The kiss was unexpected but welcome. Jack tasted like a heady mix of come and thousand dollar whiskey. Tim was always weak for kisses, and this time was no different. It didn’t help that Jack kissed him expertly, filthily, swallowing his noises the same way he had swallowed his come. Tim moaned raggedly into Jack’s mouth, moving helplessly with Jack’s rhythm. Jack’s every shiver passed through him too like an electric current. He felt like he was crash landing again, all noise and fire around him as he hurtled toward something bigger than himself.

He wondered crazily if he could get it up again so soon. He had never felt this kind of urgency before, the need to get as much as he could while he was allowed. He wanted to lie back and let Jack use his mouth the way Jack was fucking his hand. Desire spiked through him like a needle, like a bullet punching the air from his lungs.

Face hot with his own daring, he panted, “Y--you can fuck my mouth if you want to.”

“ _Shit_ \--” Jack’s groan echoed through them both as his dick pulsed in their hands, come striping wetly across Tim’s exposed belly. Tim’s disappointment at the missed opportunity was drowned out by the surge of pride at having made Jack come. He wanted to do that again, to make Jack make those noises and clutch at him just like this. 

Jack dropped his head onto Tim’s shoulder, panting. “Christ, pumpkin, you’re just full of surprises, aren’t ya?” He laughed breathlessly, then hissed, pulling Tim’s hand away from his softening dick. “Much as the spirit is willing, the flesh is beat up and sleepy. We’ll save it for next time, all right?”

Heat blossomed in his belly, pleasure and surprise entwined. Jack wanted to do this again. 

Tim blinked slowly, eyes growing heavy. Jack had been right, after all; this was exactly what he needed. Dimly he was aware of Jack cleaning him off, his motions thoughtful and surprisingly tender. All the reasons why they shouldn’t have done that seemed like distant, unimportant concerns. As he slipped under the dark waters of sleep, he felt Jack pull him close with a possessive arm. The other man was a good bulwark against the chill, and Tim turned his face into Jack’s body, content to be held. 

“You did good today, pumpkin,” Jack murmured into his hair. “I’m going to keep you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Give me touch starved Timothy or give me death!
> 
> Next up: Angel gets a bed time story.


	3. Chapter 3

Tim woke to the staccato tapping of a keyboard and quiet cursing. There was a leather jacket draped over his shoulders on top of the thin blanket. It looked like his, but smelled like someone else, the scent both familiar and strange. He blinked blearily at the shadows on the high ceiling. It was disorienting to wake up to darkness, but then he remembered that he was far from home, wearing another man’s face. Sunlight and normality were things of the past now. 

He turned over to see Jack at his desk, hyper focused on a holoscreen. He looked unreal in the reflected blue light. Tim could imagine him reaching into the scrolling lines of code and changing the fate of the universe, a fickle digital god. 

Jack looked up and tossed him a quick grin. “Rise and shine, cupcake. Got a lot to do today: defeat an invading military force, liberate a priceless space station, save the universe. You know, the usual hero stuff.”

Tim scrubbed a hand over his face in an attempt to clear his pounding head. Did they really do those things last night? Had he really begged to be touched by a man he had just met? His face grew hot at the memory. God, what must Jack think of him? He was being paid to do his job, not sleep with his boss. Tim didn’t do things like that, but being in Jack’s company made him feel reckless and daring. Like anything was possible. 

He searched his boss’s face for a clue, but Jack was a hard man to read. He wore the same look of manic cheer this morning as he had on when lobbing a grenade at the people trying to kill them.

There was a cigarette perched precariously on Jack’s bottom lip. That hadn’t been in the file. And because Tim was a coward, it was easier to focus on this little detail than ask the important questions. “You smoke?”

“No, I quit years ago,” Jack said, taking a long drag. “But I figure being invaded by a bunch of loony tunes space marines is reason enough to cheat a little. Don’t worry about taking up the habit, kiddo, these things will kill you.” He stubbed out the cigarette and stretched with a groan. “Good news: I managed to reprogram a whole bunch of loader bots to attack those assholes on sight, so that’ll buy us a little time. Bad news: there’s a jamming signal interfering with Helios’ core functions, and it’s coming from Elpis. You ever been to the moon?”

The rapid fire stream of information was barely filtering through his aching head. He wondered if Jack had slept at all, and exactly how much caffeine he had ingested. It couldn’t be healthy to be so high strung. “I thought you’ve read my file?”

“Rhetorical question, kiddo, I know you haven’t. I hope you like messing around in low G environments. Also rhetorical, I know about your little problem with heights, but it's time to put on your big boy pants and earn your pay.” Jack pushed away from the desk and came toward him. 

Tim could either stay in bed with the blanket pulled up to his chin like a maiden aunt, or he could man up and face his mistakes. Heart thumping, he swung his legs over the edge and made himself look at Jack. 

Jack moved with the kind of easy confidence that came naturally to people used to getting their own way. Everything else faded into the background when he was present. Tim recalled with scorching clarity what he had said to Jack in the dark of night. Part of him wanted to shrivel up and die; another part wanted to make the same offer, to get on his knees and follow Jack’s every instruction. 

This was exactly why they shouldn’t have slept together. Tim couldn’t be with someone without getting attached, and he couldn’t afford to get attached, not this time. He was already wearing Jack’s face and taking his orders, the lines were blurred enough without bringing feelings into things. 

_Get it together,_ he berated himself. _Don’t fuck this up._

If Jack was wrestling with similar concerns he didn’t show it. He came up close and clipped a small device to Tim’s chest with efficient, impersonal hands. “Scrounged up this shield for you, you’re welcome. Keep this on you at all times and maybe we’ll keep that pretty ass in one piece for a while.”

Face hot, Tim almost suppressed his shiver at the touch. “Thanks.”

“I also tweaked the murder twins’ AI a little, gave them a little more pizazz.” Jack clapped him on the shoulder once then moved away. “I figured if you’re gonna be stomping around Elpis on your own you could do with some semblance of intelligent conversation.”

That caught his attention. “You’re not coming with me? I thought this was a rescue mission.”

Jack chuckled. “Sorry babe, but you’re on your own. I’ve got too many important things to look after here. Don’t worry though, I’ll have eyes and ears on you the entire time.” 

As Jack made his way for the door Tim scrambled to pull his boots on and followed. He checked his pack with its guns and ammo and high-nutrition-low-flavour energy gels, and wondered when all this became his life. It seemed like only yesterday he was standing in his mom’s kitchen, waiting for a message that never came. He tried to recall Patrick’s face but the memory of it was indistinct, pale and faded against the neon glow of Jack’s presence. 

His head was aching again. Tim rubbed a hand over his face and tried to prepare himself for more violence. He couldn’t think of anything less appealing right now.

“You okay there?” Jack asked.

“Yeah, just, uh--” It would be unprofessional to admit he had a hangover, even if Jack was the reason for it. “Got a headache.”

Jack handed him a small can of something. “Here, have a bit of this, it’ll help.” 

The liquid inside was effervescent and tart on his tongue, and the effect was immediate: suddenly Tim could feel his racing pulse in the tips of his fingers; his body felt two sizes too big for his skin. He gasped as lights flashed behind his eyes. He wanted to fight, or fuck, or maybe both. “Wow, what is that?”

“Just a little something I jazzed up, helps with the all nighters and early mornings.”

Tim’s heart felt like it was trying to pound out of his chest. He licked his lips and tried not to notice how good Jack looked, hair falling over his brow, the sleeves of his sweater pushed up to show his toned forearms. “Is that stuff even legal?”

Jack grinned. “We’re trying to save the world, baby! Don’t let little things like legality or food standards or ‘not-fit-for-human-consumption’ stand in the way of greatness, huh?”

Oh god. His boss was clearly on the mad end of the genius scale. Not for the first time Tim wondered exactly what he had gotten himself into. He handed back the can of mystery juice and winced as Jack up-ended the rest into his own mouth. That explained the manic cheer. “Where are we going?”

“Those assholes blew up all the escape pods, but there’s another way off this place. It’s a little unorthodox but it’ll get the job done.”

That sounded less than reassuring. Tim was rapidly coming to the conclusion that ‘unorthodox’ was maybe Jack’s preferred modus operandi. 

They made their way to the loading bay without incident. He could hear the faint sounds of battle elsewhere in the station but it seemed Jack’s modified loader bots were keeping the invaders busy. Tim’s faint hope that today was going to be a good day shrivelled and died at the sight of the giant metal cylinder Jack was ushering him toward. “Uh, what did you say this thing was again?”

“It’s a moonshot,” Jack replied absently, punching code into the control panel. “Normally it’s used to ferry supplies and flatten the occasional bandit camp, but necessity being the mother and all that. Strap yourself in, pumpkin, it’s gonna be a bumpy ride.”

Jack had a way of speaking with such conviction that the message was almost secondary. It seemed like a great idea until Tim listened to the actual words. “Wait, wait, hang on a sec--you want me to jump into a giant bullet and get shot into the moon?”

“Yeah, sounds super cool, right?”

“It sounds like a really bad way to die, actually.”

“Timmy, Timmy, relax.” Jack came up and put his hands on Tim’s shoulders. “I told you, I look out for my people. You’re gonna make it through this, and we’re gonna do great things together. So just trust me, okay?”

Jack was looking at him expectantly. Sincerity radiated from him; his hands were kneading at Tim’s shoulders in a way that felt amazing. Tim gulped down his fear and doubt. Jack had his back; Jack was a genius and a hero and he wouldn’t let Tim die like this. “Okay,” he said shakily.

“Atta boy.” Jack’s smile could make a statue weep. Tim’s heart swooped in his chest as Jack fitted him with an oxygen kit. “Elpis is a total shithole filled with scavs and gross critters, but I know you can handle yourself. Just keep that hot bod in one piece and make your way to Concordia, I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.”

Jack was nudging him toward the moonshot again. It was now or never. Tim took a deep breath and bit the bullet. “About last night...”

Jack gave him an amused look. “You want to talk about it now?”

It felt important to address it. “Wasn’t it a little weird?” He stammered as Jack’s brows drew together. “I mean, it was great, but weird?”

Jack gave him a long look, then chuckled. “I get it, cupcake. I don’t blame you for feeling a little weird. It was right after your first real fight, and things can get crazy when the bullets start flying. I saw you needed to let off some steam so I gave you a--heh--a hand, it’s the least I could do for the guy who saved my ass. Don’t stress about it. You had fun, right?”

‘Fun’ was not quite the right word. Being with Jack was more like winning the lottery and being hit by a car at the same time. But Jack didn’t seem upset with him, which was important. For reasons he couldn’t fully articulate he wanted to please Jack, to be good at something for once in his goddamn life. He returned Jack’s grin with a smaller one of his own.

“There we go, that’s much better. You could conquer the entire moon with that handsome mug.” Jack patted his cheek and shoved him toward the moonshot. “Go get em, tiger.”

As Tim strapped himself in he asked, “Am I going to have to shoot more people down there?”

Jack shrugged. “Probably. But it’ll be for a damn good reason. We’re trying to save Helios, and if that means wiping out a few scavs, well, the end justifies the means.”

“That’s...totally something a villain would say.”

Jack tipped his head consideringly. “It really is, isn’t it? Huh. Guess I’ll have to work on that. Would hate to send the wrong message.” He shot Tim another grin and shut the door in his face. “Hold tight, pumpkin, I’ll see you on the other side.”

Tim squeezed his eyes shut as the moonshot container started with a lurch. This was what he had wanted when he signed up: finding adventure, taking risks, living a life completely removed from his old one. He was going to help Jack do this thing, and maybe if he did a good job, Jack would tell him how proud he was. _And there might be more kisses,_ the foolish part of him murmured before he tamped it down. 

He would get through this, be the hero, and it was going to be awesome. He just hoped he didn’t puke on himself before the landing.

*

Jack hadn’t always set out to be a hero. He had once wanted the ordinary things: good job, nice life, give his kid that childhood he never had. But the universe had bigger plans for him.

When greatness came knocking, when it kicked down your front door and painted your walls with blood, you could curl up and die or you could meet it head on. There had only ever been one possible choice for him. 

Jack was a fighter. Every time life kicked him in the teeth he got back up again. He had brains and looks and could charm the stars out of the sky, but his tenacity was what would propel him into the stratosphere. Greatness had found him, and he was going to take it on even if it killed him.

Alone again, he made his way to the heart of Helios via the numerous secret pathways that Zarpedon and her lackeys would never find. He had had to beg, borrow and steal to get the lead gig on the Helios project, but every unpalatable thing he had to do had been worth it. Helios was his, more than Tassiter or anyone could realise. 

‘Home’ was a loaded concept, but Helios was home now and this time he was going to make it work. It was going to take hard work and no small amount of blood, but then what in his life didn’t? It was worth it to keep what little he had managed to rip from life’s greedy clutches. And the most precious thing of all was right behind those doors.

These rooms did not exist on paper, not in the blueprints nor on the ECHOnet. These rooms were coded to his DNA and unlocked only for him, and it still took a good five minutes to get through the layers of security. It would be next to impossible for anyone else to breach these chambers of his heart.

As the doors finally hissed open, his most precious possession lifted her dark head and gave him a radiant smile. “Hi Dad.”

She was sitting among the screens wearing one of his old sweaters. On her it was practically a sack, and her knobbly knees poking out from under the hem looked red and chapped in the chilly air. He reminded himself to redirect some of the core heating here. She spent all day alone, she at least deserved to be comfortable. He had meant to bring her some new clothes too, but what with Zarpedon and Timothy and trying to stay alive it had slipped his mind. _Tomorrow,_ he promised himself. _Tomorrow, I’ll remember._

There were dark circles under her eyes. Angel had probably spent the night working again. He knew that compulsion well. There was so much to do and learn and build, it was so easy to forget to keep up the normal human things, even if she had never really been normal, nor entirely human. 

“Mornin’ princess.” He bent down and put an arm around her, squeezing. “How’s my favourite kiddo doing?”

“Ew, dad, you stink!” She wriggled, craning away from him in mock outrage. 

“What are you talking about? I always smell like puppies and rainbows.”

“You’ve been smoking again! You promised you’d quit.”

“I did, didn’t I? Good thing I’ve got you to remind me.” He dropped a quick kiss on her head then examined the screens where code was being created at dizzying speed. He couldn’t deny the jolt of envy. Even at his best he couldn’t keep up with her unnatural skill. But that kind of talent came at a heavy cost, and she had paid for it dearly. They both had. “How are you going with the Eye, sweetpea? How long before Daddy can play with my new toy?” 

Getting his hands on the Eye of the Destroyer had been no easy feat, and smuggling it aboard Helios so Angel could help him create enough firepower to split a planet in half had been tricky, but obstacles were only things to be smashed through. 

He had spent years climbing the slippery rungs of success, treading on the faces of those below him and smiling up at the assholes above. All that hard work, all the blood, sweat and tears, just so he could keep what was his safe, to make a home for them both. With this project complete, he would be one step closer to the throne; one step closer to safety.

She rubbed her bloodshot eyes. “I’m almost done. I had to recalibrate Helios’ systems to accept biofeedback from a foreign organism, but I think we’re getting close.”

“That’s my girl.” He knew he was pushing her hard, but this was important, and she could handle it. She was his daughter, after all. 

She looked up at him, and he recognised that little wrinkle between her smooth brows. He steeled himself for the inevitable question. “...Dad?”

“Yeah baby?”

“Can I go for a walk? Just around the corridors, I promise I won’t go far.”

He heaved a sigh. “Sweetie, we talked about this. It’s not safe out there for you, there are too many trigger happy maniacs running around, and I need you here working on the Eye.”

She bowed her head, her dark hair making a curtain across her pale face. A part of him almost wished she would yell, scream, something, so he could shout back. Her quiet unhappiness was worse than any heated words. 

He drew a breath and pulled deeply from his limited reserve of patience. This temporary hurt was necessary; nothing worthwhile came without blood and struggle. Soon they could rest and be happy again. The end justified the means. “Sweetheart, Daddy’s just trying to look out for my little princess, okay? I can’t risk anything happening to you.”

“Okay,” she said, the word a tiny sound of defeat. 

“It’s not gonna be forever, Angel, it’s just until I deal with these Lost Legion nutballs and find that vault. You’ve got everything you need in here, and I’ll make damn sure no one will ever hurt you. After everything’s done, I’m gonna buy you a pony made out of diamonds, and you can ride her all over Helios. How’s that sound?”

Angel giggled, the little wrinkle smoothing out again. “That’s silly Dad, you can’t buy a live pony made of diamonds.”

“I can when we’re gazillionaires, you just watch. Now it’s time you got some sleep, kiddo.” He guided her to bed and tucked her in, smoothing a hand over her head. “I brought you some of those cookies you like, why don’t you have some later?”

“Are they the ones with sprinkles? I like the sprinkles.”

“Ah crap, I got the chocolate ones. Sorry sweetheart, Daddy’s been a little distracted, what with being shot at and everything.”

“Are you okay? I know all those bad guys are looking for you.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about me sweetie, I’ve got someone watching my back. You just keep plugging away at the Eye, ‘kay?”

“That doubleganger?”

“It’s ‘doppelganger’ baby, and yeah, him. You did a great job finding him for me.” He hadn’t expected much of a kid from the Edens who had probably never faced anything worse than a hangnail, but Tim had surprised him. Hidden beneath that once sad geeky exterior was the potential for something spectacular. Jack would have to chip away at him to reveal it, but all good things took time, and he could be a patient man when he had to be. 

Last night had been an unplanned bit of fun, but that was no problem. It was criminal how good Timmy made wide eyed naivety look on Jack’s face. Jack had never claimed to be a saint, and it would take a stronger man to resist. He knew better than most how fleeting pleasure could be. He took what he wanted because life was brutal and short, and the universe never apologised for taking what it wanted, so neither did he.

“He seems nice,” said Angel. “He’s also pretty good at making people’s heads go splat.”

“Yeah, one of those is definitely more useful that the other, but you’re right sweetheart, he does seem nice. Now you keep an eye on him for Daddy, okay? I put a lot of time and money into him, I don’t want any accidents happening to him while he’s on the moon.”

“Okay, Dad.”

“Thanks Angel. Listen, Daddy’s gotta go, got a space station to liberate and everything, but I promise I’ll be back tomorrow, ‘kay?” He tried to stand up but a small hand snagged on his sleeve. 

Angel blinked sleepily at him. “Can you tell me a story?”

He grinned and ruffled her hair. “Aren’t you getting a little too old for stories?”

She batted at his hand, then hit him with the doe eyes. “Pleeease, Dad.”

“Aw c’mon pumpkin, that’s not playing fair, you know I can’t say no to that face.” He settled himself more comfortably on the edge of her bed. “Alright, gotta give the people what they want. What are you in the mood for, kiddo?”

“I wanna hear a story about John.”

“Sure thing, cupcake. You want the one where he escapes the evil grandmother, or the one where he finds a vault full of treasure?”

“The one with the pretty princess!”

“Again? Aren’t you sick of that one yet?”

“No.”

He huffed dramatically, puffing out his cheeks, then cleared his throat. “Okay, you ready for it kiddo?

“Once upon a time there was a little boy called John. He got up to a lot of adventures, but the best one was where he met the most beautiful princess in all the galaxies. It was love at first sight, not just because she was beautiful; she was also sharp as a tack and didn’t take crap from nobody. And though John’s kissed a lot of boys and girls--don’t make that face, kissing’s awesome, you’ll find out one day a long, long time from now--when he kissed the princess he knew she was the one, even if she called him names like buttface and skag brains.”

She giggled, even though she had heard this story dozens of times before, and he settled into the rhythm of the tale. 

"But her dad the king didn't approve. He wasn't going to hand his kingdom over to some no good little punk from the poor side of town. He did everything he could to stop the lovebirds from seeing each other, and even offered to pay John to leave his daughter alone.

“But John didn't give up. He stopped drinking and brawling and started to use his brain. He worked hard, and when he finally became someone important, he stole the princess and they ran away together. The king got so mad he had an aneurysm--"

"What's that?"

"That's when you get so angry your brain literally explodes."

"Cool!"

"Very cool. So anyway, the elitist piece of crap King got what he deserved, and John and the princess had a little princess of their own and lived happily ever after. The end. Happy now?”

“Mmhm,” she said fuzzily, face tucked against her pillow. He pulled the blanket over her shoulders and got up to leave when her voice stopped him. “Dad? Are happily ever afters for real?”

“Sure, sweetheart, and just like that story, in real life you gotta earn that happy ending. Nothing comes without hard work and sacrifice, baby. Now go to sleep already.”

“Okay.” She burrowed deeper into her blankets and gave him a soft smile, already half asleep. “I love you, Dad.”

“I love you too, Angel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Handsome Jack is a master at rewriting his own narrative, and I like to think this was something he practiced long before he became a tyrant. 
> 
> Next up: Timothy has a horrible, no good, very bad time on Elpis, but luckily he's got a guardian angel on his side.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim makes a friend. The Merriff makes an enemy of Jack.

Two crash landings in as many days was just overkill. Tim did manage not to puke on himself, but that was only because he had been too busy screaming. When his ride finally ground to a teeth-rattling halt, he had to confirm yet again that all his bits were still intact. 

From the bubble helm of his oxygen kit, he surveyed the alien landscape stretching out before him. He had landed on an icy cliff that was somehow also bordering a lava pit. From his vantage point he could see the way ahead was more of the same, that crazy mashup of cold and hot, all wrapped in dark space. Helios hung in the sky, only half built but already huge, a bevy of Dahl ships buzzing around it like gnats. Jack had said he would be watching. He wondered if Jack was watching him now. 

On cue, Jack’s call came through his ECHO. “Oh hey, you made it! Wasn’t sure if that’ll work, glad you’re not dead.”

“You weren’t sure?” Tim could hear a squeak of hysteria in his own voice.

“It was a calculated risk. Life’s uncertain, pumpkin, gotta take a chance now and then,” Jack said, like it was no big deal. Tim added ‘casual disregard for the safety of others’ to the growing list of things he was learning about the man. “Now I need you to make your way to Concordia and find a guy who calls himself the Merriff. Yeah, dumb name, I know, but he’s the guy in charge and he can help us sort this mess out. Just tell him I sent you.”

“Did you shoot him into the surface of the moon too?”

“Easy with the sass, cupcake. You’re fine, aren’t ya? I wasn’t kidding about Elpis being a shithole, though. Tell you what: make it to Concordia in one piece, and I’ll make it worth your while.” While Tim was ninety percent sure Jack was talking about money, he couldn’t stop the sudden flash of memory: Jack between his thighs, dark lashes dipped low, mouth open and wet. 

Any answer he might have made clogged in his throat. Just as well there was no video on the call; Tim was sure he had turned bright red. Mercifully Jack seemed to take his silence as agreement and hung up.

As he half scrambled, half fell down the steep icy slope, it occurred to Tim that this job was the first time he had ever ventured beyond the Edens and all their civilised comforts. That felt like personal growth of some kind. He just hoped there wouldn’t be too many more gunfights.

The moonshot’s targeting system was complete shit. According to his ECHO, he was nowhere near where he needed to be. He could see a glow on the horizon that might be Concordia, but it was going to be a long walk. Sighing, Tim shouldered his pack and started forward. Maybe he might encounter some friendly locals who could help him out.

As he acquainted himself with moving through low gravity, his thoughts kept circling back to Jack. It was hard not to think about him: Jack was larger than life and took up similar space in Tim’s thoughts. While his boss might not be the archetypal hero, there was no denying that Jack was exceptional. Tim had never met anyone like him before. 

And Tim had certainly never slept with anyone like Jack before. He grew hot again from the memory, that weird mix of lust and mortification that Jack seemed to inspire. Jack was the single most attractive person Tim had ever been with, and he was leagues above the old Tim, though Tim supposed now he _was_ Jack’s league. 

He replayed the events of this morning but the sense of weirdness still lingered. He hadn’t expected a declaration or anything, but Jack had made it sound so inconsequential, like scratching an itch. Which, okay, hurt a little, but maybe that was what beautiful people did. Maybe Jack scratched that itch with whoever he wanted, when he wanted. Tim wondered what that must be like, to just take whatever you want without waiting for life to give you permission. Must be nice. 

After what felt like hours of jumping, climbing and trying not to fall on his face as he adjusted to the new low gravity, Tim reached the mouth of a valley and found walls blocking his way. Relieved to finally find some signs of civilisation, he rushed forward, scenarios of a warm welcome running through his mind. 

That died a quick death as a bullet pinged off the ground near his feet. He yelped and skidded to a stop. At the top of the wall a man dressed in an assortment of items that looked like they might have been looted from corpses grinned down at him, holding a very big gun to his head. 

“Lookin’ for trouble, ya drongo?”

Tim couldn’t blame him for that assumption; someone looking at his kit and his guns might come to the conclusion that he was up to no good. He kept the rifle in his hand pointed to the ground and tried to look harmless. “Please, I don’t want any trouble, I’m just passing through.” 

The local--what had Jack called them?--scav vaulted over the wall and landed in front of him, gun at the ready. “Hands up, let’s ‘ave a squizz at ya.”

Tim had a universal translator in his kit, which could interpret over a thousand different languages in live time but couldn’t apparently cope with local slang. Between that and the atrocious accent he could only make a guess at what was being said. 

He put his hands up anyway, because placating a mad man was always a good idea. “I’m not sure what a squizz is, but I don’t have one, sorry.”

“You takin’ the piss, cobber?”

“Uh, no? I don’t think so?”

The scav looked him over from the top of his Hyperion hoodie to the tips of his boots. “What’s a posh bugger like you doin’ off ya fancy space station?”

“I’m a body double for a Hyperion software programmer, and I’m here to help him defeat an army of crazy ex-Dahl soldiers who are attacking Helios for reasons that aren’t entirely clear to me.”

The scav stared at him for a long second, then hocked a loogie at his feet. “Mate, you’re really gettin’ up me clacker. Rack off ‘fore I blow your face off.”

“Wait! Please, I just want to pass through, I’ve got someone waiting for me in Concordia.”

“Headin’ for the big smoke then?” The scav gave him a critical look before his eyes settled covetously on Tim’s gun. “That’s a grouse bang stick you got there mate. Give it ‘ere and I’ll let you through.”

“What? No, sorry, this isn’t mine. I mean, I’m using it, but it’s Hyperion property. I can pay you?” 

“Nah, your shrapnel ain’t good down here, mate.” The other man stuck out his hand expectantly. 

Tim considered his options, but short of shooting his way through the place there really wasn’t a better alternative. Jack might be pissed at him for giving up the rifle, but he would probably be more pissed if Tim never turned up to Concordia. At least he still had his pistol that he could rely on in a pinch. Reluctantly he handed over the rifle.

The scav held it up to the light and fondled it in a way that was entirely unnecessary. “Nice. Don’t see much Hyperion tech down here. Cheers mate.” He gave Tim a grin full of teeth and shot him in the chest.

The blast knocked Tim right off his feet. It felt like being punched by a train, even if his shields kept him alive. Laid out on his back, Tim could only gasp like a landed fish, hands scrabbling at the front of his intact sweater while his brain screamed at him that he should be full of holes. Through black spots swimming in his vision he saw the scav walk over, grinning down at him.

“Grouse shield too, mate. Let’s see how many rounds it’ll take to get through to your noggin.” He levelled the rifle at Tim’s face. The end of the barrel was a yawning black hole.

 _That’s my fucking gun_. Suddenly furious, Tim hit the button on his wristwatch and the digijacks appeared on either side. The scav’s head swiveled as he tried to keep both in his line of sight.

Whatever Jack had done to tweak with their programming had gifted the digistructs with an uncomfortable amount of personality. While ‘murder twins’ was still apt, Tim had secretly started giving each their own name.  
  
“God, you’re ugly,” said Trouble, or was it Strife, and blew the scav’s head off. 

As brain and bone bits splattered through his blue silhouette, Strife (or possibly Trouble) said “I dunno, he might be uglier now.”

Tim pushed to his feet with a groan. He took back his gun from the scav’s limp fingers and gave the inert body a kick. “All you had to do was let me through, asshole.” He could hear rising shouts coming from behind the walls, no doubt the dead man’s friends roused by the gunshot. Great, just great.

The digijacks had heard too, and their heads swiveled toward the noise with disconcerting synchronicity. They wore matching grins, digital teeth bright and gleaming. Tim found he wasn’t immune to their excitement. He checked the rounds in his rifle and blew out a harsh breath. “Do you think they’ll be willing to talk it out?”

“Wouldn’t bet your life on it, boss,” said Trouble.

“Right. Damn.” He really didn’t feel like getting shot again today. His chest was still tender; the bruising was going to be spectacular. “Let’s get this over with. God, I hate this place already.”

*

It took much too long to clear the place of its overly enthusiastic occupants, but Tim managed it without getting shot again, so that was something. He was learning to appreciate the small wins. As the digijacks dissolved in a shower of sparks he came across a cluster of vehicles parked at the rear of the compound. _Score._ Briefly he wondered if it was okay to just take one, then he remembered that anyone who might care was already dead. 

The going was much quicker once he had a moonbuggy at his disposal, though it was hardly more comfortable than walking. The car felt like it was being kept together with spit and tape. Every bump he went over rattled the chassis until Tim was sure he would die impaled on an inconvenient metal bar. The concentration required to navigate the strange land meant he didn’t see the mass hovering above him until it spat sizzling acid at his windshield.

“Holy shit!” He wrenched the steering wheel and narrowly missed falling into a lava pit. “What the hell is that thing?”

“That’s a shuggurath,” someone said in his ear. “Use the mounted gun.”

He looked around wildly but there was no one there. Oh shit, he was losing it. Maybe the moonshot had actually exploded on impact and this was just a really shitty version of hell. 

“Stop freaking out or you’re going to be a puddle of goo in a few minutes,” his hallucination said. It sounded like a young girl, which just made the whole thing weirder. “Jack asked me to keep an eye on you, and he won’t be happy if you die in the first hour.”

“You work for Jack?” Tim knew Hyperion had a less than stellar reputation for ethical practices, but child labour seemed like a new low. “How old are you?”

“Old enough to know that’s a rude question to ask,” she said snippily. “Now are you gonna kill that thing or not?”

“Okay, okay.” He found the controls after a few false starts and sent a volley of bullets at the floating ball of meat and grossness. It popped like a zit, but a few more took its place. Tim gritted his teeth and took aim at each one. When it was over, his car was covered in gore but still in one piece.

He fell back into his seat and puffed out a long breath. “Thanks, that was super gross. Are there gonna be lots of those things around?”

The girl made a thoughtful noise. “I programmed your ECHO with another route to Concordia. It’ll take longer, but it should avoid most of the hostile fauna around the place. Can’t do much about the scavs, but you’ve been handling yourself pretty well so far.”

It should be ridiculous to be praised by someone who sounded like they were maybe ten years old, but it was still nice. “Thanks kid, that’s really cool of you.”

“Don’t call me kid. My name’s Angel.”

“Nice to meet you Angel, I’m Tim.” 

“Yeah, I knew that already.”

“Oh, right.” Tim checked his ECHO for the new route and put his foot down on the gas. “So how did you end up working for Jack anyway?”

“I’m good with tech,” Angel said, which wasn’t really an answer. 

He kept one eye on the road as he turned this new information over in his head. What kind of man employed college drop-outs and children to fight against seasoned mercenaries? “What’s Jack like as a boss?”

Angel was quiet for long enough that he thought she had disconnected. He checked his ECHO but realised she had never dialled him on that in the first place. Weird. At last, she said slowly, “He’s pretty demanding, but that’s because he’s really focussed on the goal. He can be really nice when he remembers. He tries his best, anyway.”

“Wow, you’re really insightful for a kid.”

“Yeah, and I know when someone is being a patronizing a-hole.”

“Sorry,” Tim winced. “I just meant that you seem really smart.”

“Oh. Thanks,” Angel said, sounding a little embarrassed. “Sorry for snapping at you, I don’t really talk to other people much.”

“It’s okay, me neither.” The quiet lull that followed felt strangely companionable. As Tim drove, he thought about the fact that he was working with two incredibly smart people, one of whom was at least half his age. He was used to feeling inadequate, but this must be a new record. 

Still, it was nice to have someone to talk to. “How are we talking right now?” he asked to keep the conversation going. “You’re not using my ECHO.”

“I’ve redirected several Hyperion satellites overhead to keep an eye on you, and I’m piggybacking off their signal to patch directly to your brain.”

“Oh. Wow, that’s, uh, really smart.” And a little creepy. Then a worrying thought occurred to him. “Are you going to be, uh, watching me all the time?”  
  
He could practically hear her rolling her eyes. “I’m not gonna watch you do anything gross, like I’d even want to. I’ll just check in when you get into trouble.”

“Oh, that’s, that’s really nice of you, thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” she said politely. “I have to go, sorry, got a lot of things on my plate. Stay in one piece, okay?”

“I wish people would stop saying that,” Tim said, but she was already gone. 

*

The long way around added an extra couple days to his trip, but just as Angel promised there were minimal encounters with the local wildlife. Well, that was if he didn’t count the scavs. These guys had seemingly holed themselves inside every habitable structure. Angel had mapped out drop points along the way where he could get supplies, but getting to the stuff was never straightforward. At least he was putting his training to good use. 

Trouble and Strife gave the illusion of company, especially when things got hairy, though he wasn’t sure if the banter was any improvement over their old set dialogue. Angel, true to her word, also helped out with directions and running interference with any stubborn turrets. 

Still, the moon was a cold, lonely place. 

He checked his ECHO for messages. His mom was the only one from his old life who bothered to contact him, even if her messages were short and half hearted. She felt like the last link to his past. He couldn’t bring himself to answer her, and once he let the messages pile up it seemed too difficult to address them at all. He didn’t want to be reminded of what a failure he had been and how little he mattered to anyone.

He was achieving things here on Elpis. He had people depending on him now. Jack had chosen him to carry out this important mission, and it felt good to be doing something at last.

His days were divided between long hours of boring driving and sudden spikes in adrenaline. Elpis had plenty of nasty surprises up its sleeve. Each battle wound Tim up tight, and every time he tried to get some rest, curled up in some room in the middle of a scav nest he had just cleared, his thoughts circled back to Jack. He wondered what Jack was doing, whether he thought of Tim as much as Tim thought of him. 

Sometimes when he was too keyed up or lonely, he closed his eyes and relived the secret thrill of having Jack’s hands on him. It was just a simple way to blow off steam, he told himself. It didn’t have to mean anything.

*

Concordia, when he finally made it through its borders, turned out to be a colossal waste of time. Not only could he not get an appointment with the Merriff, the most beautiful woman he had ever laid his eyes on turned out to be his boss’s ex, which effectively ruined any chance of him ever getting on her good side. Typical, really. Tim really should not be surprised that life continued to shit on him, but fate just seemed to keep finding new lows to mine. 

At least no one here was actively shooting at him, which was something. Tim sat in the corner of Moxxi’s bar and nursed his soda water, trying to think how to break the news to his boss. 

That problem solved itself when his ECHO lit up with an incoming call. “Hey other me,” Jack said in greeting, “nice to see you finally made it. Took you long enough.”

 _Still a jerk._ “The Merriff won’t see me,” Tim answered dutifully. “I mentioned your name but he said some pretty unflattering things. I don’t think he’s a fan.”

“Yeah, that’s because he’s a filthy little turncoat,” Jack growled. “Turns out our friend Hux has been working with the Lost Legion this whole time. A little birdy helped me intercept some of his messages. The encryption on them was so pathetic a space herps riddled skag could have done a better job.”

“Yeah, Angel helped me out too. I don’t know where you found her but she seems super bright.”

There was ringing silence from the other end of the line. Tim wasn’t sure if the call had dropped out. “Hello? Jack, you there?”

“You talked to her?” There was an odd note in Jack’s voice.

Tim got the sudden feeling that he had messed up, though he hadn’t the faintest clue how or why. “Yes? I mean, yes. Is that not allowed? She never said. I don’t want to get her into trouble.”

“No, no it’s cool. She can talk to whoever she likes.” Jack paused. When he spoke again his voice was dark with potential. “I’m dropping by for a visit. Meet me in the Merriff’s office. We’re gonna have a little chat with Huxie baby.”

“Just a chat, right?” He had a feeling that Jack didn’t appreciate being played for a fool. Tim might have spent the past few days using scavs for target practice, but the thought of doing the same to someone they knew made him uneasy. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to be judge, jury and executioner to someone who had been on the same team.

“Relax cupcake, this ain’t a witch hunt. Hux might be a traitorous little piggy, but I’m sure he had his own dumb reasons. I just want to make him squeal a little. I’ll even say please.” 

“Okay.” Tim’s heart sped up. He was going to see Jack again. It had only been a few days but thoughts of Jack just kept growing until it felt like there was no more space for anything else in his head.

 _Focus,_ he chided himself. If he got this done, then Jack would pay him and Tim could unpause his life again. It was all going to work out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to my fellow Aussies for butchering the language of our people.
> 
> Next up: Jack gets territorial, and Tim is screwed (if you know what I mean.)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys work off some excess adrenaline.

There was a lot to be said for some good old fashioned hands-on vengeance. Jack had spent a not insignificant amount of his younger days picking fights. It had been an outlet, an escape, a chance to turn his brain off and immerse himself in the sheer physical rush of being alive. The struggle, the impact of flesh on bone, that was the essence of the universe. 

He would come home with fucked up knuckles and blood in his mouth. The old bitch would beat him for it, but even that couldn’t dull the glow. 

Using a gun felt like cheating. The initial rush of putting a round into Hux’s little piggy face was rapidly fading to a buzzing restlessness. 

They had come back to Moxxi’s for a celebratory drink, but the mood in the room was off. Jack’s legs bounced under the table and he peeled off the label of his beer in tiny strips, but it wasn’t enough. He craved a smoke, or a black eye. The bass throb of the music in here echoed his elevated pulse. 

Sitting across the table, Timmy looked miserable when he should be making fucking merry. His double had really outdone himself today. Jack hadn’t even seen the gun, had turned his back on Hux like some trusting goddamn idiot, but he did hear the two shots Tim had plugged in Hux’s soft gut. If it wasn’t for him, Jack would be the one bleeding out on that hideous carpet, taken down by a snivelling little traitor who didn’t even have the balls to look him in the eye while trying to kill him.

Hux had blubbered at him, spouting blood and begging for his life, a coward right to the end. It had been practically a mercy to put him out of his misery. 

Tim had stood there wringing his hands the entire time. It was clear he had shot Hux without thinking, his urge to protect Jack instinctive. It was so fucking cute Jack could kiss him.

Right now Timmy was eyeing him uncertainly, like he was waiting for Jack to bite. He gave Tim a toothy grin just to see him twitch. God, but he was too easy. Jack wondered if his own face ever looked that open. “You okay there, pumpkin?”

Tim dropped his eyes and toyed with his own drink. “Yeah, just...he was one of us, you know?”

“Wrong.” Jack raised an admonishing finger. “He might have been once, but he stopped being one of the good guys as soon as he teamed up with Zarpenuts. Do you know what kind of scum tries to shoot a man in the back? The lowest kind, no better than scavs or bandits. Our dearly departed Merriff got what he deserved, and you did your job. Did it pretty fucking well, too, cupcake. Remind me to give you a raise.”

He didn’t miss the pleased blush creeping up Tim’s neck. It really was unreasonable how cute he made Jack’s face look.

“You’ve got some, uh…” Tim gestured at his own cheek, his eyes darting at Jack and flickering away.

“Spit it out, princess.” Jack took a deep pull of his beer. He wondered idly if he could convince Tim to go around the back and brawl with him a little. He didn’t want to fight some insignificant random. The violence simmering under his skin felt targeted, intensely personal. He wanted to hurt something that mattered.

Tim lifted up a paper napkin. “Can I?”

Jack gave him a magnanimous wave. He held himself very still as Tim reached over and dabbed at something on his cheek. Timmy looked like he was holding his breath. When he drew back there was a smear of blood on the napkin. The sight of it sparked something hot and heavy in Jack’s gut.

“Thanks babe,” he said, the words sticking in his throat. He hadn’t been fussed over like this since--well, since. He licked at his lips and Tim’s eyes followed the motion. Huh. Maybe Tim would follow him into a dark alley after all, and not to fight. “Why don’t you go get us another drink, Timtam? Just add it to my tab.”

Timmy still looked uncertain but did as he was told. What a good little double. Jack sat back in his seat and admired the view. It was a unique experience to be able to watch his own body walking away in real time. Moving through the crowd, Tim drew admiring stares even if he seemed oblivious to the attention. And why shouldn’t the plebs stare? Timtam was the whole package: rockstar shoulders, snaky hips, that spectacular ass in skin tight jeans. Autohn really did do a great job. 

But it wasn’t just the surface stuff that had Jack enthralled. Watching Tim carve his way through those filthy scavs had been enlightening. The boy was a natural. Everything else was old habits: Tim might fret and stammer when he wasn’t listening to his instincts, but that could be corrected with the right kind of incentive. 

The strongest metals were forged by fire and pressure. By the time Jack was done with him, little Timmy was going to be adamantium. 

He watched as Tim leaned against the bar, totally unaware of how good he looked in this room full of good looking people. And Jack wasn’t the only admirer. He watched as a woman sauntered up and practically pushed her tits in Tim’s face. She was a stunner, all legs and curves and attitude, exactly what Jack would look for if he was after a good time. He could tell she was a woman on a mission. 

It was impossible to make out their conversation over the throbbing beat of the music, but Jack could read the situation loud and clear. Timmy was making a complete mess of it, blushing and stammering, eyes darting everywhere except to her face or her cleavage. But despite his complete ineptitude, the woman was still interested. Jack could read it in her body language, the way she kept stroking along Timothy’s arm, leaning in too close. Timmy was going to get lucky in spite of himself.

Amusement curdled into something uglier. Jack was on his feet before the thought had fully formed. He walked over and dropped his hands down heavily on Tim’s shoulders, making him jump. The woman’s eyes raked over them both with interest.

He kept his eyes on her as he bent down and put his lips to Tim’s ear. He could feel Timmy shiver under his hands. “Who’s your new friend, pumpkin?”

“Uh--”

She stuck out her hand, chin lifted. “Nice to meet you, I’m--”

“Gorgeous, is what you are. I’m Jack.” He took her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, laying it on thick. It amused him and people ate that shit up. He draped himself over Tim and stared her down, one predator squaring off against another. 

She gave them an assessing look. “Are you identical twins? I can hardly tell you two apart.”

“It’s complicated,” he said, and gave Tim’s leg a very unbrotherly squeeze. The look on her face was almost as amusing as the squeak Timmy let out. 

Her dark eyes roved over the both of them intently. “Well, I don’t mind complicated if there’s no strings attached,” she said. And normally Jack appreciated that kind of attitude, especially when it could lead to a little three-way fun, but he was not in the mood to share tonight.

“Sorry sweetcheeks, but my dance card’s already full.” He straightened and hauled Tim from his seat with an arm around his waist. His double darted a wary look at him but didn’t resist. That was the kind of behaviour Jack liked to reward. 

He snapped his fingers at Moxxi. She gave him a death glare, but she knew as well as he did that image was everything, and came sauntering over, all honey-sweet.

“What can I do for you, sugar?” She leaned over the bar, giving everyone an eyeful. It was an effective tactic to distract from the steeliness in her eyes, but her tricks didn’t work on him anymore. He gave her his smarmiest grin. 

“You still rent out those VIP rooms, Moxx? The ones with the exorbitant hourly rates and easy to clean surfaces?”

Her eyes darted to Tim, who was wriggling uneasily in the snare of Jack’s arm. “Sure, sweetie. How long do you need?”

“Oh, you know me, babe, I don’t like to rush a good thing. We’ll take as long as we need and you keep the booze coming, alright?” He tipped her a wink.

Her mouth flattened, but she reached under the bar and slid over a key card with a holo display of her signature cherry red lips. 

This was going to be fun.

“Thanks Moxx, you’re a pal. And you,” he pointed at the bimbo who had pawed at Tim, “I like you. Stay freaky babe, and maybe I’ll take you up on that offer next time.”

He ushered Tim toward the stairs. He could feel Moxxi’s eyes burning a hole in his back. It only made him grin.

Timmy glanced over his shoulder. “What’s going on, Jack?”

“We’re taking this party somewhere a little more private.” He had a hand on the small of Tim’s back and it took real effort not to slide it down a little further to palm that very nice ass. Timmy wasn’t some two bit whore to be pawed at without a little warm up.

As an employer, Jack was a big believer in both the carrot and the stick, but he could be generous with positive reinforcement when it was warranted. Timmy had earned his carrot, and the reward Jack had in mind was going to be a win-win situation. 

*

The room Jack led him to was at the end of a corridor of other locked doors. The walls and carpet were that particular shade of red that he had seen plenty of over the last few days. With the muffled bass coming through the floor it felt like they were standing in the chambers of a huge heart. His own heart was rabbiting away in his chest, whether from fear or anticipation was anyone’s guess. 

The first thing Tim noticed was the mirrors. Every wall was covered in mirrors of every size, gold rimmed or plain, each one reflecting the two of them back at him. It was still a shock to see his own reflection at times. He kept expecting freckles and pale eyes made wider by his glasses. 

The second thing he noticed was the giant bed in the centre of the room. The velvet bedding was the same shade of arterial red. Jack flopped onto it and let out a laugh. “Good old Moxx, she’s a lot of things but subtle ain’t one of them.”

Tim followed his line of sight and felt heat rush to his face. There were mirrors on the ceiling too. God, this place was decked out like, well, a whorehouse. He was pretty sure his face was red enough to match the decor. 

Jack was making himself comfortable, laying back with his head pillowed on his arms like he owned the place. He didn't look like he had just killed a man. Then again, Tim didn't look any different either, and he had killed a whole lot more than one.

That whole thing with the Merriff had left him on edge. Concordia, as it turned out, was no safer than the rest of this god forsaken moon. He never meant to hurt Hux, but the second the man had pulled a gun on Jack there had been no other alternative. Even now his heart lurched at the thought of Jack getting hurt. 

_It’s only because he can’t pay you if he’s dead_ , he thought, but that sounded weak even to himself. This was no longer purely about the money. If he was honest with himself, it hadn’t been since the moment they met. 

Restless, Tim walked around the room, touching things for the sake of having something to do. He was acutely aware of Jack’s eyes on him. He could see that heavy lidded gaze reflected in every mirrored surface. Jack might look at ease, but there was a thrumming tension beneath the surface. A live current was flowing between them, waiting to spark. 

He jumped when Jack spoke. “Take your top off, pumpkin.”

Tim swallowed. “What for?”

Jack’s eyes narrowed. “I saw that corrosive round eat through your shields yesterday. I wanna assess the damage. Also, I’m your boss and I’m asking you nicely, so chop chop.”

“This is nice?” Tim grumbled, hoping his irritation covered the way his heart was pounding in his chest. He did as instructed, shrugging off his jacket and tugging the sweater over his head. The room was well heated but goosebumps rose on his skin anyway. Maybe it had something to do with the way Jack was raking his eyes over him. 

Jack propped himself up on one elbow and crooked a finger at him. Fighting the urge to shiver, Tim walked over and perched on the side of the bed. Just like the first time, Jack traced his warm hand over the evidence of Tim’s battles. 

He took the hit somewhere on the outskirts of Concordia, making his way through yet another scav hideout. He had been careless, too distracted by the guys coming at him that he totally missed the sniper. That encounter had left little star bursts of scarring along his left pectoral and shoulder. Jack touched each one, then pressed his hand flat against Tim’s chest, right over his racing heart. 

"How did it feel?" Jack said. 

"How do you think acid eating through your skin feels?" He snapped, half shocked by his own daring. "It hurt like a bitch.'

Jack rolled his eyes. "Don't care about that. I'm asking how _you_ felt at that moment."

Tim replayed the moment like a film reel, picking loose the strands of detail from the chaos. "I felt pissed," he said slowly. "Those bastards were trying to kill me just for passing through. I was scared, but mostly angry." He recalled the exact moment the bullet ripped through his shield, the impact like a shot of pure adrenaline. Everything seemed brighter for a long second, the whole world reduced to the pounding need to destroy, to win. "I felt alive."

Jack was searching his face. Whatever he found there made him break into a grin. "That's right, pumpkin. It's quite a rush, huh? Did you feel good?"

He had felt more than good. His fury had sharpened his focus, quickened his reflexes until he was like lightning, like thunder, until every single person between him and his objective became an obstacle to smash through. He had been the last man standing, and it had felt incredible.

He was half hard now, Tim realised with a lurch. Difficult to say whether it was from remembered adrenaline or Jack. That warm hand moved down, grazing over a nipple. It might almost be an accident were it not for the way Jack was looking at him.

His heart knocked furiously against Jack’s palm. “What are we doing here, Jack?”

Jack’s lashes dipped; his smile was as slow as warm honey. “We're just having a bit of fun. Even heroes deserve a little R and R, don't you think?"

Tim licked at his parched lips. It was getting very warm in here. “You wouldn’t like me if I didn’t look like you,” he said hoarsely. The thought had been a revelation, one of those late night epiphanies that came when he should be sleeping instead. He thought the words would have a similar impact on Jack, but the other man only shrugged.

“But you do, and I do, so what’s the problem?”

Good question. “I’m not like you,” he said, meaning, _I’m not good enough, I’m nothing special_. 

Jack made a face. He guided Tim in front of a full length mirror and pointed at their reflection. “What do you see?”

It was difficult to guess what he wanted to hear. “You,” Tim hazarded.

Jack made an impatient noise and straightened Tim’s head with a grip on his chin. “Look at yourself, pumpkin. Tell me what you see.”

Obediently, Tim looked. He scrutinized his own reflection, from the tips of his boots, up his denim-clad legs, to the v of muscle where his bare hips rose above his belt. He looked at the tanned expanse of his naked chest and its smattering of dark hair. He lingered over the pleasing shape of lithe muscle over elegant bone, the disks of his nipples drawn up tight, the fluttering pulse at the dip of his throat. When he finally focussed on his own face, the man staring back at him seemed half dazed, his eyes dark with want. Heat shivered through his new, perfect body. _Oh._

“Well?” Jack asked. He was standing very close at Tim’s back, his lips to Tim’s ear. Heat radiated from him. Goosebumps broke out all over Tim’s skin.

“I see myself,” he said tremulously. “I look good.”

“Better than good, Timmy. You look fucking delectable.” When had Jack’s hands settled on his hips? Those big fingers stroked at his bare skin, leaving burning trails in their wake. The air was heavy with potential. Jack looked like he was starving. “You did so good today, pumpkin. Are you ready for your reward?”

Tim’s mind had gone blank, but that was okay; Jack clearly didn’t expect an answer. Jack pressed up against his back and tugged him into an open-mouthed kiss. Tim whimpered, clinging to the arm around his waist as Jack licked his way inside. He felt electrified, every sense on fire. That live current between them was now a roaring blaze. He could feel the zipper of Jack’s leather jacket catch on his bare skin, the press of Jack’s hard-on against his ass. He might not be fighting for his life here, but this still felt dangerous. 

He turned in Jack’s arms and pulled at the other man’s clothes. Jack indulged him, moving as Tim directed, letting Tim push and pull him until he was naked, until they both were. Jack was stunning, standing shameless and erect, all that toned flesh the peak of youth and male beauty. The light inside him burned so brightly Tim was blinded to everything else. 

He dropped to his knees and took Jack’s cock into his mouth. He had thought about this for days, but the reality was even better. Jack was warm and heavy on his tongue, his savoury flesh blood hot and velvet smooth.

Jack carded his fingers through Tim’s hair and gripped a handful. “Good boy,” he purred, holding him in place as he slid his cock over Tim’s tongue, nudging ever deeper. Tim’s eyes fluttered shut, lost in the _smell taste feel_ of Jack. Every breath left him in a high moan. He had a bruising grip on Jack’s thighs but he couldn’t make himself let go, hypnotised by the flex of muscle under his hands, the thick hot flesh stopping up his mouth. 

“Been dying to do this, haven’t you? Christ you look good like this, that pretty mouth stretched around my dick. Where’d you learn to suck cock like that, babe? No, don’t tell me, I’m gonna get jealous.” Jack cradled his head and fucked his mouth steadily. Tim’s jaw was starting to ache; Jack was not small, but he could hear the tremor in Jack’s voice and it was powerful to know that he was the cause. He was making Jack make those noises. He swallowed convulsively and Jack cursed, pulling his hair. “Fuck, that’s so good. Much as I’d love to fuck that pretty face ‘til I come, I’ve got bigger plans. Get up here, handsome.”

Tim gasped as Jack pulled away, leaving his mouth achingly empty. He tried to chase after it, blindly seeking that taste of salt and skin. A rough tug in his hair brought him up short. “Uh uh cupcake, I said ‘up.’”

Tim rose on trembling legs and melted into Jack’s kiss. He gripped Jack’s arms as the other man chased the taste of himself in Tim’s mouth. “Christ, you’ve made a mess of yourself, haven’t you sweetheart?” Jack murmured, thumbing away trails of spit from Tim’s chin. 

“Please,” Tim said. When did words get so difficult? “More, please.”

Jack chuckled. “I gotcha, babe.” He kissed Tim again and walked them backwards. Blindly trusting, Tim followed Jack’s lead, finding his way back to Jack’s mouth every time they separated. All the pent up anxieties of the past few days were evaporating under Jack’s touch. There was nothing else but the press of hot flesh, the need to get closer than this. When they tumbled onto the bed Tim moaned raggedly and hitched his legs up around Jack’s hips. 

“So eager, Timmy. This what you want?” Jack ground down against him, sucking bruises into the column of his throat. “You want my cock in you, babe? You gonna beg for it?”

Tim gasped for air, punch drunk. He couldn’t remember wanting anything so much in his life. “Yes, yes Jack, please, I want you to--”

Pleasure rumbled low in Jack’s throat. “God, you’re so fucking good for me, aren’t you? Hold yourself open for me, cupcake. I wanna see that pretty body on display.”

Tim swallowed hard and pulled his knees to his chest, holding the back of his thighs to keep them steady. He could glimpse himself reflected from the corner of his eye, and it should be mortifying to be so shameless, but he couldn’t think, couldn’t tear his eyes away from the vision of Jack kneeling before him, slicking lube onto his rigid cock. 

“Christ, look at you sweetheart. You’re a goddamn work of art.” Jack gave the back of his thigh a ringing slap then soothed his hand over the sting. His ravenous gaze nailed Tim in place. 

Tim shivered at the slick touch of fingers around his hole. He tried to arch into it, desperate for more, now, _please_.

“Shh, shh, I know pumpkin, I know. Gotta do this properly, don’t wanna hurt you, okay?” Jack patted his thigh as he pushed two fingers inside. Tim cried out, clenching down helplessly. “Uh uh, none of that now. You want this dick in you, you gotta stay nice and loose for me, c’mon now.”

Trembling, Tim squeezed his eyes shut and tried to obey. He wanted to be good for Jack, he wanted to please him. He sucked in deep breaths and forced himself to relax until Jack’s fingers were moving easily inside him, sinking in to the last knuckle. 

“There we go, such a good boy, Timothy.”

Tim’s dick jumped against his belly, leaking steadily. His legs were trembling in his sweat-slicked grip. “If you d-don’t hurry up, I’m gonna come like this.”

“No, no, that would be a waste,” Jack said, voice husky and not a little threatening. “If you do, I’m going to be very unhappy with you, kitten.”

Tim opened his mouth to reply but yelped as Jack pushed another finger inside. A pulse of precum slid down his cock. Christ, Jack was trying to kill him. “Please, I’m ready, I promise, just fuck me already--”

“Well, since you said please.” Jack eased his fingers out and gave Tim’s dick a squeeze. Tim whimpered as he fought back a rush of pleasure. _Can’t come, not yet, Jack hasn’t said I can._

Jack was tugging at him, positioning him until they were lying chest to back, Tim entirely buoyed up by the strength of Jack beneath him. Jack’s cock pulsed hot and slick against the seam of his ass and Tim writhed against it, panting. 

“You been thinking about getting fucked, babe?” Jack said hotly against his ear. “All by yourself out in the badlands, those nights must’ve been awfully long and lonely. Did you think about this dick to keep yourself warm?”

Tim squirmed, caught like a fish on a hook. He had spent more than a few nights thinking about it, Jack pressing him down, whispering in his ear about what a good job Tim had done. He had thought about it with one hand frantically working his cock, the other on his gun, desperate to come but also afraid to. Because when he inevitably did, for those few blinding seconds he was completely vulnerable, alone on a rock where seemingly every living thing wanted to kill him (he couldn’t deny that the danger had added an extra illicit thrill, and that should be fucked up, right? When did he become this person who got off on the possibility of violence?)

“Tell me,” Jack said, the note of command in his voice as implacable as stone. 

“Yes,” he gasped. “Yes I’ve thought about it, I’ve thought about you, just like this, please please put it inside me--”

“God, you look so good Timmy. So perfect, made just for me. Open your eyes, look at yourself.”  
  
Helplessly, Tim looked up at the mirror above and felt the air punch out of his chest. There were two Jacks on the bed, two bronzed bodies tangled together. He was splayed out on top, his toned thighs hooked over the bent knees of the man beneath him. As he watched, Jack took himself in hand and pressed slowly, inexorably inside him. 

A cry lodged in Tim’s throat. He was panting so hard he might pass out. Spread out like this, he could see every inch of Jack’s thick cock sinking into him, his own body stretching to take him in. 

“Ah, fuck!” He clutched at Jack’s arm braced across his chest. Heat was roaring up his spine, blood rushing in his ears. 

“Uh-uh, not yet sweetheart.” 

Tim wailed as a hand clamped around the base of his cock, pulling him back from the edge. His dick throbbed angrily but orgasm hovered just out of reach. He was sure that when he finally came, when Jack allowed him to, it was going to kill him. He let out a rough sob, bucking into Jack’s cruel grip. 

Jack bit his ear then soothed it with his wicked tongue. “That’s it babe, you see how good you look? How good we look? This is what the world sees, this is the skin you wear so fucking flaunt it. Make me proud.”

The Tim in the mirror was a wreck, cheeks flushed and eyes wet, his belly slick with precum. Jack had him in his arms, more a restraint than a hug, one corded forearm braced across Tim’s chest as his other hand worked slowly at Tim’s straining cock. Jack was watching him watch himself, and the dark heat in his eyes was hot enough to scorch. 

Jack braced his feet against the bed and drove up into him like Jack was trying to kill him. That coarse hand squeezed his cock, setting a rough rhythm that matched his pounding heart. Tim sobbed and clutched at whatever he could touch, clawing at Jack’s skin, at the sheets, heat winding higher and higher until it felt like it would burn him up. The two Jacks in the mirror writhed together like a single entity; it was impossible to tell where he ended and Jack began.

“That’s it babe,” Jack panted against his ear. He fucked up roughly, hitting Tim’s sweet spot with unerring accuracy. “C’mon sweetheart, let go, show me that pretty O face.” 

Tim came with a scream that scraped his throat raw. He trembled as Jack fucked him through it, those big fingers coaxing forth pulse after hot pulse as his body clenched helplessly around Jack’s cock. He sobbed again, trying to arch away from the agonizing pleasure but Jack held him tight, his breath sawing hot and wet across Tim’s cheek. Jack was cursing, his hips losing their rhythm as Jack drove up hard inside him and came with a deep groan. Tim could feel every twitch of Jack’s cock inside his overstimulated body.

As aftershocks sparked through him, Tim turned his head and sought for Jack blindly. Jack caught him in a kiss, one hand cradling his cheek as the other worked his aching dick, milking the last drops of pleasure. Tim shuddered and gave himself up to it all. 

*

In the quiet aftermath they laid together in the ruined sheets, a tangle of arms and legs. Jack was half dozing, contented as a big cat after a good meal. Sleep tugged at Tim too, but this moment of peace felt too precious to give up just yet. He took the opportunity to make his own survey of Jack’s body. 

They were no longer exactly identical, not since Tim had felt the sharp hospitality of the good folks of Elpis. But now that he had Jack naked and at ease beside him he noticed Jack had scars of his own. Feeling daring, he traced a finger over a mark down one shoulder blade. It was an unusual shape, a crescent like a sliver of moon. The scar was warped and shiny with age. Jack rumbled and stretched lazily under his hand.

"What happened here?" Tim asked.

Jack turned his head and cracked open one eye. "Sweet old gran gran was handy with a belt."

"Oh." Not a crescent moon, he realised with a jolt. It was a belt buckle mark. It would have taken a lot of force to leave a scar like that. He wondered what Jack had been like as a boy. Maybe not so different from how he was now: complex, difficult, infuriating. But no kid deserved this. 

He moved past that scar and found another along Jack's flank, a narrow groove left behind by a bullet. "And this one?"

Jack's eye slipped closed. "Dead wife,” he said flatly.

A hundred questions raced through Tim’s mind. _What was she like? How did she die? Did you love her?_ But he could tell by the tension in Jack’s body that this conversation had reached a dead end. He swallowed back his questions and soothed his hand over Jack’s skin, trying to rub away the marks life had left on him. He knew so little about this man, while Jack had a literal file on every aspect of his life. It didn't seem fair, but that was just how it was.

Little by little Jack relaxed again under his hand. It was powerful, knowing that he could do this for Jack, to bring him down from his perpetual state of mania, even for a brief moment. It was not so different from holding a scav grenade in his hand; all that latent power and it was fifty-fifty whether it would blow up in his face. He would be lying if he said the danger wasn't part of the appeal.

“Get some sleep, pumpkin,” Jack mumbled. “Big day tomorrow.”

Tim wondered if Jack would ever share the full plan with him. He wondered why he wasn’t more bothered that Jack might not. But he was sated with the sweet full body ache of orgasm and questions could wait another day.

Just like that first night, Jack hauled him close and fell asleep with his face in Tim’s neck. As they laid twisted up in each other, Tim stared up at their reflection and felt his stomach drop. He recognised this tangle of hot confusion in his gut. He was falling too hard, too fast as usual, but this time the rejection might kill him. 

He was so very, very fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for all the porn, it's important for character development I swear!
> 
> Next up: Tim gets a little hero worship of his own; Jack is not amused.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter was a bitch to write. No hero worship just yet, sorry, the plot is growing faster than I can keep up. Things get complicated from here.

The room was hazy with the glow of Concordia’s artificial day cycle. Tim watched the dust motes wheel through the light and tried to breathe slowly. If he shut his eyes he could recall the blood soaked dreams that had woken him. It was easier to stay awake, stay still, and just breathe. Jack’s arm was draped across his middle, Jack pressed bare and warm all along his back. Tim pushed aside everything else and just soaked in the feeling of being wanted. If he could only capture this moment, freeze it in amber, then everything else could fall away and it wouldn’t matter. 

Too soon Jack stirred, moving sluggishly at his back. His arm tightened around Tim as he rubbed his face against Tim’s shoulder, morning stubble rough on his skin. Tim held his breath and waited for the usual excuses: it’s not you it’s me, this was a mistake, let’s give each other some space. He was used to it, he told himself. It wouldn’t hurt as much this time.

He yelped as Jack bit him on the shoulder, breaking his train of thought. “Damn pumpkin,” Jack growled, “you make getting out of bed seem like the worst idea.”

Heart in his throat, Tim put his hand over Jack’s enveloping arm and pressed back into him. “Then don’t. Let’s just stay here.”

Jack let out a low chuckle and kissed over where he had bitten. “Greedy, kiddo. Helios ain’t gonna liberate itself.”

 _I don’t care,_ Tim thought fiercely. He had signed on to be a hero, to seek adventure, but none of that could compare to the slide of Jack’s bare skin against his own, that hot mouth sucking at the nape of his neck. He rolled them over until he was pressing Jack down onto the bed. He could glimpse their reflection from the corner of his eye, two identically beautiful people at the centre of their little universe. 

It didn’t matter that he had to shed his skin, to wade through blood and gunfire to get here. It was so easy not to think about all that when Jack was looking up at him with undisguised hunger.

For his whole life Tim had been invisible, barely noticed even by his own mom. But Jack had noticed him, had plucked him from obscurity and elevated him into a better version of himself, a man someone like Jack could want. For that alone, Tim would willingly do whatever necessary, as long as Jack didn’t look away. He leaned in and kissed Jack, shivering as those big hands tightened possessively on his hips. It wasn’t enough that he wore Jack’s face, bore the bruises of Jack’s hands. He wanted to carry Jack in his bones. “Bite me again,” he said breathlessly. “Do it hard enough to leave a scar.” 

Jack grinned. “You’re kind of a freak, Timtam. I like that.” He tugged Tim down until they were pressed together. The drag of that hot mouth against his skin made Tim’s breath come hard and fast. He clenched his eyes shut and waited for the flash of pain. 

Jack kissed the base of his neck where it met his shoulder, then bit down hard into the muscle. Tim cried out, arching into it, trembling as heat shot down his spine. Jack growled and held him tight.

There was an enormous sound like the ground being split apart. The entire room rocked. When they jerked apart there was a smear of blood on Jack’s mouth. “What the fuck--”

A woman’s voice echoed across Concordia, grim and humourless. “People of Elpis, this is Colonel Zarpedon of the Lost Legion…”

“Shit. Shit shit shit!” Jack leapt out of bed and yanked on his clothes with furious motions. 

Tim listened as Zarpedon outlined her plans for Elpis’ demise, the heat in his belly twisting into sharp anxiety. What had they gotten themselves into? How can two men and a kid ever hope to defeat an army of zealots with a planet killing laser?

“Angel,” Jack barked into his comms, “what the hell happened?” Tim couldn’t make out the other side of the conversation; whatever Jack heard made his face darken. “Goddammit. Alright, just sit tight, I’m heading back up.”

Tim clenched his fists in the bedsheets. He had no idea what to do. “Is everything okay?” he asked, like an idiot. Things were clearly not okay. 

Jack stamped into his boots and ran both hands through his wild hair. There was a far away look in his eyes, like he was already somewhere else. “Just a little setback, cupcake, I’ll pop back up to Helios and take care of it.”

“Take me with you.” Tim wanted to drag him back into bed, back to that place where it was just the two of them. If Zarpedon was here right now, he would happily shoot her to have Jack look at him again. 

Jack shook his head. “No can do, pumpkin. Last night was fun but I need you down here. I’ll send you some instructions as soon as I figure out what the fuck is going on.”

Tim’s heart dropped. Last night had just been a bit of fun for Jack. Of course it was, Jack was just blowing off some steam, hadn’t that been crystal clear from the very beginning? Only an idiot would read anymore into it. He was so fucking stupid.

“Hey, hey, don’t look like that.” Jack’s hand was warm on his cheek, lifting his head up. Jack looked at him expectantly. Tim had no idea what kind of expression he should be wearing. “You’ll see me again real soon, just stay put and wait for my word, okay? Will you do that for me, pumpkin?”

 _Anything. Anything you want._ Tim swallowed back the fatal words and said shakily, “Yeah, okay.”

Jack gave him a tight smile and a pat on the cheek. “Good boy.” Then he was gone, boots thumping their way downstairs, leaving Tim weak-kneed and alone.

The place where Jack had bitten him throbbed like a second pulse; Tim touched it gingerly and caught sight of his own pale face in the dozens of mirrors. 

“Idiot,” he berated himself. It didn’t make him feel any better.

*

The Up Over Bar was deserted in the early hour, music off, lights up, the only activity the prep work in anticipation of another big night. Sitting by himself at the bar, Tim nursed his soda water and tried not to think about Jack alone on Helios, dodging bullets and tangling with Zarpedon’s troops. He should be up there with Jack, protecting him, doing his job. The knowledge that he had been left behind like dead weight made him want to crawl up the walls. 

A plate of breakfast appeared under his nose. He looked up to find Moxxi before him, perfectly made up and composed despite the early hour. She was just as stunning as the first time he had laid his eyes on her. 

He must look pitiful; the smile she gave him was more genuine than the professional one she wore on the job. “Have a bite to eat, sugar, anything’s easier to deal with on a full stomach.”

Any other time that smile might have left him melted in a puddle. Now he could barely muster one in return. “Thank you.” Out of politeness he picked at the food, chewing and swallowing without tasting any of it. 

As he ate, Moxxi went through the ritual of setting up for the day, the click of her heels and the gentle clink of bottles almost soothing. She hummed as she worked, her voice low and throaty, the tune like something he had once heard a long time ago. Something about it made him think of his mom. His stomach clenched as he remembered he hadn’t responded to her messages in months. He pushed the plate away and scrubbed both hands over his face. 

“So this nasty business of some rogue army trying to blow up the moon. Why do I get the feeling that you two boys are caught up in this somehow?”

He looked up to find Moxxi scrutinising him. There was a steeliness to her that he hadn’t noticed until now. Something about the way she looked at him set his heart racing, and not for the usual reasons. “It’s not his fault,” he said. “Jack’s trying to save Elpis.”

She drummed her red nails on the bar top. “How much do you know about Jack?”

“Enough to do my job.”

There was something behind her painted smile that reminded him, oddly, of Jack. “And what about last night? Was that part of the job?”

With a jolt he realised she was staring at the teeth marks on his neck. Half an Anshin had closed the wound, but the scar was still pink and new, too high up to be entirely concealed by the collar of his jacket. He wondered if Jack had done that deliberately. He swallowed and fought the urge to hunch his shoulders. “I’m sorry, but I really don’t think that’s any of your business.”

“Anything that happens within these four walls becomes my business.” She paused, then softened her tone. “You seem like a nice kid, sugar. I’d hate to see you get hurt.”

“I know what I signed up for.”

“And what is that, exactly?”

 _To do whatever Jack needs_. It sounded wrong when trying to explain it to someone else, but that was only because they didn’t have the full picture. Jack wasn’t forcing him to do anything; Tim could walk away from this any time he wanted to. "It's complicated.”

She let out a dry laugh. "Honey, ‘complicated’ is Jack’s specialty.” She leaned forward, breasts almost spilling out of her top but Tim barely noticed; he couldn’t look away from her pale, steady gaze. “I bet things got real complicated when you killed the Meriff.”

Tim’s stomach dropped like a stone. _It wasn’t me_ , he wanted to protest, _Jack did it._ But that wasn’t true, he had pulled the trigger first. Jack had only finished the job. “How do you know about that?”

She quirked a perfect brow. “Not much happens on this rock without me knowing about it. I know Jack’s got you carving your way through Elpis. I know you can handle yourself in violent situations. What I want to know is whether you enjoy it.”

 _It’s quite a rush, huh?_ Jack whispered in his head. 

In some way Tim couldn’t articulate, shooting Hux had felt different from killing the scavs. He could still hear Hux’s whimpers, smell the thick stench of blood mixed with an open gut wound. There had been spare Anshins in Tim’s kit, he could have easily dosed Hux up and handed him over to the appropriate authorities. Instead he had stood by and watched Jack shoot an unarmed man in the face. 

The memory of it made spit flood his mouth. Tim swallowed thickly, stomach churning. The little food he had managed to choke down sat like a lead ball in his gut. “It doesn’t matter. It’s what I’m good at.” 

She was watching him closely. “I’ve met a lot of killers, sugar. They’re some of my best customers. But I can tell it’s not your thing, no matter what Jack thinks. If you keep going, this job is going to eat you up from the inside out.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

She smiled. “I know more than you think, Timothy Lawrence. I know about your little deal with Jack, your old life on Eden, your poor mother who thinks you’re dead.”

His blood turned to ice. He gripped the bar top, fighting the urge to run. He didn’t want to turn his back on her. “What do you want from me?”

She put a hand over his. Her touch was soft and warm. It made him want to crawl out of his skin. “Nothing. You don’t need to give up a thing for me, sweetie, not your name, not your face, you don’t even need to sign a thing. I just want to know what Jack’s up to. Jack has a bad habit of getting into trouble. Some might say that’s part of his appeal. But I get the feeling this time he might have bitten off more than he can chew. I don’t care if he gets himself killed, but I won’t let him drag the rest of us down with him.”

Cold sweat trickled down his back. “You want me to betray Jack.” 

She gave a delighted laugh. “Nothing so dramatic as that, sugar. Keep doing whatever you think is right. Just pick up when I call.”

“Why should I do that?”

“Because I can help you. When things go bad--and trust me, with Jack involved, things always go bad--you’ll need a friend on your side. I can be that friend.”

He swallowed hard, fighting the urge to call out the digijacks. She wasn’t holding a gun on him, she hadn’t even threatened him, but every hair on his body was standing on end. Very slowly, holding her unblinking gaze, he pulled his hands out from under hers and stood up. “Excuse me, I think I’d like to go now.”

She was still for long seconds, then gave him a wink. “Think about what I said, Timothy. You take care now.”

The spell broke. Feeling returned to his limbs in a rush. Tim stumbled down the stairs and out into the bustle of Concordia. Every face he passed was a blur. His ears rang like a bell. He managed to make it down a quiet alley before he fetched up against a dumpster and puked up his meagre breakfast in a churning rush. 

*

Un-fucking-believable.

Jack’s hand shook as he pressed it against the security panel. The scanner couldn’t read it through the film of blood and he had to wipe it on his jeans before trying again. 

Most of it was from the couple of Lost Legion grunts he met on his way. It wasn’t hard to dispatch them; he could have tore them apart with his bare hands. He took a shot in the shoulder that he fixed with a hypo, glass crunching beneath his heel, no time to stop. 

He could barely keep still as the last of the security measures fell away. His teeth were aching and he forced himself to relax his jaw.

How could Angel let this happen? She was supposed to be watching. What was the point of having his own personal Siren if she couldn’t keep an Eridium junkie bitch from getting her filthy hands on what belonged to him?

 _It’s because you're a fuck up, just like your old man_ , Grandma murmured in his head. _You were born a worthless piece of shit and that’s all you’ll ever be._

Beneath his fury was that familiar black thread of fear. This could be the setback that sank him. There was so much more than just Helios to lose. He ran a hand over his face, trying to claw back some control. He had let himself get distracted. It was time to get his head back in the game. He slapped on a smile and strode into the room.

Angel looked around and gasped. He realised that he was still splattered with blood. It didn’t matter. She had seen worse before. Had done worse herself.

“How’s my baby girl doing?”

Her wide blue eyes darted over him. “Dad, are you okay?”

“I’m peachy.” He grinned until his face hurt. “What happened with the Eye, sweetheart?”

She flinched as if he had yelled. “Sorry dad, I--I was sleeping when they hacked the controls.”

“What about the fail safes?”

“There must’ve been an error in the code, I don’t know how she found it--”

“You’re a goddamn Siren, Angel,” he said through clenched teeth. “You’ve been coding since you could walk, there aren’t supposed to be any errors.”

She knew better than to give any excuses. She sat very still like she was fighting the urge to cringe away, like he was dangerous, which was ridiculous. He had never laid a finger on her and he never will. He had sworn that he would never put her through what John had to endure, and he had kept that promise. But she was looking at him now like she was waiting for the blow. It was infuriating. He made himself unclench his fists. “This is a big problem, kiddo.”

“I know, I’m sorry! I’m just tired, you’ve been pushing me so hard--”

“Are you saying this is my fault?”

“No! No, dad, please. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Angel had curled into herself, hugging her knees to her chest. He never did bring her those new clothes. His yellow sweater on her was doing nothing for her complexion--she looked sick and exhausted. A part of him ached at the sight but he couldn’t afford that right now. There were bigger problems at hand. 

He pulled up the screens and assessed the damage: Zarpedon had wormed her way into Helios’ mainframe and locked them out of the Eye’s controls. Fuck. _Fuck._

He braced himself against the console and took long, steady breaths until he could speak again. “I’m open to suggestions here, kiddo.”

He watched from the corner of his eye as Angel pulled herself together. She was tough, she could handle this. “I’ve found a military AI on Elpis that we can use. If we track it down, we can install it into Hyperion loader bots, militarise them and use them to take back control of the Eye.”

Not a bad plan if they had weeks to spare, but they didn’t. “Zarpedon’s gonna pop the moon like a zit before then. Give me something better.”

Her face set with grim determination. “I’ve been thinking that I--I could communicate with the Eye directly. If I can interface with its neural network I might be able to buy us some more time. I might even be able to assume direct control.”

For the first time since he walked in his smile came naturally. “That’s my girl. I like that plan. Let’s do that, huh?”

He was always sparing with his praise; it was more effective that way. He saw the way she soaked it in, lighting up, returning his smile with a small one of her own. “Okay. I’ve never done anything like that before but I’ll--I’ll try my best, Dad.”

“You gotta give me more than that, sweetheart. We can’t afford any more failures.”

Her smile wobbled. “Oh. Okay. I’ll make it work, I promise.”

“That’s better.” He pushed away from the screens and turned to leave.

“Dad?”

He paused. He could feel her eyes boring into him, heavy with expectation. He could feel her hope and fear and love, feel the weight of a hundred different things that he just couldn’t spare the time for. Guilt twisted his gut but he ignored it. There would be time for that much, much later. “Yeah, kiddo?”

“It’ll work, I know it will, but I need to take a break, just for a little bit. It’ll help me concentrate. Can I please just take a walk outside, just for a minute?”

He barked out a laugh. “Oh no, cupcake, not a chance. Not after this colossal screw up. Not until you’ve cleaned up your mess.”

Angel’s face fell. Two spots of colour were rising on her pale cheeks. "Why are you so angry with me? I’m sorry, Dad, I’m sorry for everything, I’m sorry about the Eye, about what happened to mom."

Memory sledgehammered him in the chest. For a second he couldn’t breathe. Everything he had been running from was snapping at his heels. He groped for his anger like it was a lifeline. "Don't you fucking talk about her. Don't you dare."

"I miss her too! I wish I could take it back but I was too little, I couldn't control it yet. Please dad, please stop punishing me!"

“You think _you’re_ being punished? Do you have any idea how much I’ve sacrificed for you? Do you think I enjoy living like this? I don’t want to have to lock you away to keep you safe. I didn’t ask for any of this. All I wanted was a normal goddamn life with a normal goddamn daughter!” 

When Angel was young, her mother used to joke that she cried like a Promethean widow: that slow collapse of her baby features, the silent stretch of her little mouth as she took a long inhale, just before the ungodly wail that would follow. The longer the silence before hand, the louder the sound after. It was a spectacular sight that would send them into fits of laughter half the time, which was usually enough to distract Angel into a teary smile too.

But Angel was too old for that now. Time had changed her in its cruel and inexorable way, just as it had changed them all. Her mother was in the ground, and Angel no longer made any sound when she cried. Her mouth stayed closed, flattened into a white line as tears spilled silently from her wide blue eyes. 

An apology clogged in his throat. Air sawed in and out of him like a hot knife. His eyes burned. _Are you going to cry, John?_ Grandma whispered. _When are you gonna learn to take it like a man, huh?_

He needed to leave now, right now, before he did something he was going to regret. 

He stumbled out of there like a drunk as the doors slammed shut behind him. When he turned he could see his own face reflected in the chrome surface. 

_What would your dead wife say if she could see you now, John?_

The metal was solid and ungiving under his fist. He kept hitting its shining surface until his reflection was obscured by bloody smears, until the urge to run subsided. When at last he stopped he was breathing hard and soaked through with sweat. The fit of violence had been cleansing; the only thing left was his anger, crystalline and familiar. It was his oldest friend. It was safe and it would keep him strong. 

He flexed his hand and winced. Something was broken. But he could fix it. He could fix everything, he just had to keep pushing through. He had to regain control of the Eye, save Helios, get to that vault. Angel would be fine. She would understand one day. There would be time for forgiveness later. 

Right now, he had a military AI to find.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry Angel baby, but the plot demands your tears.
> 
> Next up: Tim makes some new friends. Jack gets paranoid.


End file.
